Shadow Of The Day
by Moderndaydrifter
Summary: Who does Gary turn to when there's no one else to trust?
1. Prologue

**_Shadow of the Day: Prologue_**

Passion. It was something in Gary's life that ceased to exist. He had been married once before, but that ended in divorce. Sure, she had come back to rekindle things but he couldn't see himself giving her another chance, not when she was the one that left him. He did love her, but he knew that if he took her back she could easily do it to him again. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go through the pain twice. It was hard enough the first time.

He had several women come into his life that looked promising, but they all ended the same exact way. The newspaper he received was his priority, and when the girls began to pry into why he had to dash off for no apparent reason, he just couldn't come out and tell them that he had to go save Chicago, one article at a time. They would lock him up in the loony bin for sure.

_If it weren't for the paper._

He leaned his head back against the couch cushion, staring down at the Chicago Sun-Times that had arrived thirty minutes ago. He glared at it as if it could feel his frustration. He let out a low, raspy laugh. How could he allow something so small take over his life? The more important question was how could he live with himself if he didn't do anything about the accidents he knew he could help prevent?

Was finding his true love more important than saving people from freak accidents? Having a wife and kids was all he ever really wanted. He didn't want to be Superman, but it was evident that some underlying force had chosen that path for him. It didn't matter what Gary Hobson wanted.

He ran his hands over his bloodshot eyes, smirking at the nuisance that had arrived on his doorstep one idle morning with no warning to allow him to prepare for the drastic changes that were about to take place in his life. He rolled it up tightly in his fists until the fibers of the paper were stretched as far as they would go. He felt the tightness of the document under his fingertips and knew that it was on the verge of ripping. Throwing it hard at the front door of his hotel room, he watched the different sections of the paper scatter near the exit. Metro, world news, and of course, the local category landing on the very top. What a coincidence.

He stood up, glancing down at the main headline.

_Construction Crane Collapses on Michigan Avenue, Killing Two and Injuring Dozens_

Adrenaline began to pump through his veins as his eyes skimmed through the black font. The pulse in his temples quickened. He never got used to the feeling of nausea that settled in the pit of his stomach when he caught glimpse of a major news story that he could possibly prevent.

He gathered the major details to memory and glanced up at the clock on the wall. The incident occurred at 8:30 AM. His mind clicked into gear and he was out the door, his boots clomping heavy on the sidewalk.

Romance would have to wait. He would never be able to ignore the fact that people needed his help no matter how bad he wanted a family. As long as the paper was left on his doorstep he would be out on the streets of Chicago, helping the naïve and ungrateful that would never realize how close they came to being injured or killed. It was all because of Gary Hobson, a normal guy that received tomorrow's newspaper today.

_TBC…._


	2. Chapter One

_**Shadow Of The Day: Chapter One**_

Michigan Avenue was already crowded when Gary arrived on scene. Was he too late? He pushed through a couple of people, brushing their shoulders. He heard a few distraught comments but disregarded them, his eyes moving upward to where the crane was swaying back and forth. It hadn't collapsed yet, so why was everyone there?

He turned back to a man dressed in a business suit behind him, hoping he wasn't one of the people he had just made angry. "Hey, what's everybody standing around for?"

The man stared at Gary for a moment. "We are protesting this construction project. They are knocking down a landmark! Now get out of the way if you don't know what's going on." The stranger pushed Gary aside.

"No, you don't understand. You people need to back up." He turned away, grabbing the paper to read a few more of the details that had slipped his mind. _The crane operator was unharmed, but two bystanders were standing too close and were hit by debris from the collapse._ "Everyone needs to step back! The crane is going to fall!" He raised his voice as loud as it would go, but he knew half of them didn't hear a word that was coming out of his mouth.

"And just how do you know it's going to fall. Are you a psychic?" The business suit put his hands on his hips, still studying Gary as if he were from a distant planet. "We have every right to be here!"

"I know something isn't right, now back up!" He didn't know what else to do, and knew that the machinery was about to plunge back down to the ground, so he pushed the man back, which caused everyone else to take a few steps towards the curb. A loud crash could be heard behind them, and Gary didn't even need to look to know that the crane had done exactly what the article had said.

Murmurs erupted and Gary finally turned around, seeing the dust rising up into the sky. He glanced down at the headline again to make sure he didn't overlook anyone who could possibly be a victim.

_Crane Collapses on Michigan Avenue Causing Structure Damage_

Not one mention of injuries. He smiled to himself, walking away. He heard someone call his name but continued to walk. He didn't have time to stand around and chitchat, nor did he want to. It was on to the next article, with not even enough time for a break.

* * *

"Listen to this article, Marissa. A guy gets cornered in an alley and beaten up pretty good. He's listed as critical condition at Northwestern Memorial." Gary looked up from the paper, swallowing hard.

"Where does it happen?" Her voice was low, her fingers running along the side of her cane.

His eyes skimmed the article. "Wabash. This afternoon." He sighed, biting his bottom lip as he contemplated the situation. "I have a weird feeling about this, Marissa. I mean, what if these guys turn on me?"

"Yeah, we don't need you becoming the victim." She paused. "But you know you have to go try. This guy could end up dead."

He nodded, keeping his eyes on the paper as he gathered up the small tidbits needed to try and stop this incident from occurring. His mouth grew dry when he read further. The details of the attack were gruesome and it would be wrong if he didn't at least attempt stopping it.

Glancing at his watch, he stood up and threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table beside Marissa. "I gotta get going. I don't want to be late on this one." He reached down and squeezed Marissa's arm, feeling her fingertips brush across his skin. "I'll be back later. You need a cab?"

"No. I think I'll stay here for a little bit."

Gary reached down and took one more sip of his beer, trying to moisten his tongue one last time before heading out. "I'll call you and let you know how it went." With that comment he made his exit, stepping out of McGinty's and into the cold breeze. His muscles didn't want to move, and grew tighter with each step he took, but he fought through it, gritting his teeth as the air chilled him to the bone.

He only had to walk about five blocks, but his pace quickened when he realized that the attack took place in about fifteen minutes according to the paper. The streets were extremely crowded and he pushed through a few people who were taking their time.

"Watch it, buddy! We're all in a hurry!"

Gary disregarded the snide comments and continued down the street, pulling his leather jacket tight around his midsection.

What if the attackers failed to listen to him? How was he going to stop them? He was one man and there were three attackers. He hoped an idea would hit him before he got there. Wabash was only a few blocks away and his pulse quickened as he became more aware of the people and buildings surrounding him. Maybe he could get there before the attackers found the victim and he could pull the person out of the alley and away from harm.

The high rises shadowed the alleyway, making it appear darker outside than it was. He glanced up at the sky, then back down at the sidewalk as he approached the area described in the article. He leaned against a wall, peering around the corner. He ran his hand along the siding, feeling the texture of the brick on his palm.

Taking in a deep breath, he shifted his weight and stepped out into the open, the small hint of garbage tingling his nostrils. A faint conversation could be heard and he saw three men hovering over a person that was lying on the ground. Was he late? Maybe the newspaper was off on the time it had happened.

"Hey! What are you doing?" His voice cracked a little from the cold air, but it was loud enough for the culprits to hear him. "Hey!"

The three men looked up, and Gary's first observation was that they were dressed in uniforms. He squinted his eyes, noticing that the patches on their arms said 'Chicago Police Department.' He stepped back, his instincts screaming for him to turn around and run, but he couldn't leave the civilian behind, not until he was sure he'd be okay.

"Who are you and what's your business here?" The officers began to walk in his direction, one holding a baton in his left hand, slamming it into his right hand. If he was doing that for intimidation, it was definitely working. "You going to answer me boy?"

Gary stared at them for a moment longer, unsure of what to say back. Why were cops beating on someone? The newspaper had failed to mention that it involved the authorities. Was it a random drug bust? From the way they were acting it wasn't legitimate, which made him want to get away as fast as he could.

"I think this kid is sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. What do ya say fellas?"

Before they responded he pivoted backwards, breaking into an all out sprint. Their attention had turned to Gary, completely forgetting about the man they were recently abusing.

He was afraid to look over his shoulder, but knew they were getting close to him by the heavy footsteps that seemed to be getting louder with each step. Sharp pain shot through his chest as his body fought the cold air that filled his lungs. He stutter stepped when he came to the end of the alley, trying to make a decision on which way to go. Maybe being out in a public area would make the cops back down and give up. He glanced behind him, and saw that they were still hot on his tail. Any normal person would figure that he was a suspect on the run from three cops and not a man that was in dire need of help.

"Stop that man!" Gary heard one of the police officers yell, and he looked down to see a random man stick his foot out with the intention to trip him. He mustered up enough energy to jump, quickly avoiding the stranger. He ducked onto a side street, getting away from the crowds of people that congested the main streets. It wasn't like it was a benefit to be out in the open, they were just slowing him down.

Another stabbing pain shot through his ribcage, and he wasn't sure how much more of this running he could handle. His thighs burned, but he pushed his legs to move faster, remembering his breathing techniques of running long distance. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. Keep it labored. Don't panic. The last thing he needed was to hyperventilate, especially in twenty-degree weather.

"Stop! We just want to talk with you!"

Gary slowed his pace to a jog, trying to get some feeling back in his limbs. He looked over his shoulder again to see that he had gained some ground between them. What if they did just want to talk and he was freaking out for no reason? He wasn't sure, and by the looks on their faces he could tell their intention was to harm him. Either way, he didn't want to take a chance.

After a quick recovery, he made a quick left down another dark side street. He had to find a place to hide. These guys weren't giving up that easy and he didn't think he could outlast them. Stopping for a moment, he leaned against the side of a building, his eyes scanning the area. He had to figure out his exact location before he could make a decision on where to go. He was two blocks over and one up from where the chase had began, which meant that State Street was up ahead.

He groaned as he pushed his body off of the wall and his joints popped from the hard impact of the street beneath his shoes. "Don't…stop," he muttered to himself.

"We gotta get him, he saw our faces! He knows too much!" The comment was barely audible, but Gary caught enough of it to know that this confrontation was far from over. Even if he did hide, they would somehow find him. They probably knew every crook and cranny in Chicago.

He reached the end of the alley, looking for the next cab to come his direction. There were a number of taxi's, the only question was if they were vacant or on duty.

"TAXI!" He pointed his hand out, his heart beating out of his chest as one pulled up to the curb about five feet in front of him. He pushed through the crowd, opening the door just in time. He felt an arm grab his shoulder and jerk away quickly as he slammed the door. He looked out the window, glaring right into the eyes of the youngest cop that was seconds away from abducting him. He let out a deep cough and felt a harsh tickle erupt from the bottom of his lungs from the long exposure to the winter air. Why didn't the officer flash his badge to stop the taxi? Gary didn't know why, but was grateful that he didn't.

"McGinty's bar, and step on it!" He glanced down at the spot in the newspaper that previously had the article about the beating.

_Winter Weather Hits Chicago with Bang_

"Listen, I don't know what you are getting me into…"

Gary quickly cut the driver off. "Just drive. Everything will be fine." He leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. What had he gotten himself into? What were these three cops trying to hide? Chicago Police corruption. Great, just what Gary needed to get involved in.

* * *

"Marissa, they were cops! They chased me. I'm telling ya, something just doesn't make sense about this." He gripped the phone in his hands, trying to keep his voice low.

"How did you end up getting away?"

He licked his lips, staring down at the keypad in the phone booth. He traced his index finger along the outline of the numbers; ducking his head every time he saw what looked like a police officer. "I hopped in a cab. Right before they caught up to me." He paused and stared at a police cruiser that was parked across the street from him. "Marissa, I can't be paranoid of every cop that comes my way. I already look suspicious as it is."

"Who's to say you have to Gary? Maybe they were just trying to scare you and now they are done." He recognized the tone in her voice. It was the same tone she used every time she tried to comfort him, no matter how doomed he was. The tone that told him, 'Gary, you really dug yourself a hole this time.' He wanted to slam the phone receiver into the glass beside him but fought off the sudden flare of anger that filled his veins.

"No, I have a feeling this isn't over. They were hiding something."


	3. Chapter Two

_**Shadow Of The Day Chapter Two**_

Gary stared at his blank TV, contemplating on reaching for the remote. He studied his reflection in the glass, taking note to his slumped posture as his body sunk lower into the cushions beneath him. His mind raced with the possibilities of why the cops had chased him half way across Chicago.

He had remembered studying police corruption in one of his history courses in college. The main focus was during prohibition, but even now dirty cops were on the rise throughout the city. Maybe he had witnessed a form of police brutality and the cops didn't want him to tell anyone. It just didn't make any sense. He didn't know their names to turn them in, nor did he know the situation. Why were they so dead set on catching him?

He leaned back and rested his head on the armrest. The silence within his loft was eerie, so he finally mustered up enough energy to reach for the remote, flipping the channel to the nightly news. He frowned when the weather report came on. Twenties and lower for the rest of the week with a chance of snow everyday. Wintertime always made him question why he chose to stay in Chicago. He loved this city too much, and he had always vowed he'd never flock down to Florida like most people did when they reached retirement age.

Fighting off his exhaustion, he stood up and walked to the kitchen. He rummaged through the refrigerator, groaning when he saw that he was in desperate need to go grocery shopping. The pantry was empty as well, so he strode back to the refrigerator in hopes that something would magically appear if he continued to go back and forth between the two. There was always the option of going down to the bar and grabbing something from the kitchen. McGinty's didn't close for another hour and he hadn't checked on the place all day.

His legs ached as he walked down the stairs, hearing the loud thump of music bang through his eardrums as he got closer to the social gathering. Smoke stung his nose, but he had grown used to that from tending the bar. He nodded at the new bartender he had recently hired, her name escaping his memory at the moment.

"Been a busy night?" He stuck his head in the cupboard, grabbing a bag of peanuts and a beer from the cooler.

"Not too bad. Just the usual crowd." She wiped down a shot glass and replaced it on a shelf. "I thought you were taking the evening off."

He peeled the outer shell off of one of the nuts, tasting the saltiness as it crunched between his teeth. "I am. I just needed a snack." He paused. "If you need any help closing the place down just call me. It's no problem."

She grinned and let out a small giggle. Gary assumed she was shy, and it made him wonder why she chose the job of a bartender. "Thanks Gary. I think we got it under control."

Again, he had forgotten who else was here to help her out. His mind was so out of sorts that he left it at that and walked back up the stairs to his loft, his peanuts and beer in hand. He channel surfed for what seemed like ten minutes before he found an old black and white western that really didn't appeal to him, but was the only thing on that wasn't some type of infomercial.

This time he didn't fight the sleep that overcame him and closed his eyes with the TV on full blast in front of him.

* * *

The same loud thud echoed through his loft and he jolted up from the couch at the sound of the cat's meow from behind his door. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and took note that he had left the TV on all night. He kicked his legs over the side of the cushions, his body aching from the awkward position he had slept in all night. He leaned his head back in hopes to work the crick out of his neck, but it only accented the stiffness. Even the arches of his feet were sore and it was a sudden reminder of the long distance run he had endured the day before.

He yawned and ran his hand through his hair, watching the cat run into his living room. He threw the newspaper on the coffee table and leaned against the wall, glancing down at it. The main headline was about the weather, yet again. That was a good sign. If the top news story was about something like that it might mean for a slow news day. He smirked at the thought. He wasn't going to count his chickens before they hatched, so he grabbed the Chicago Sun Times and ran his fingertips over the black ink.

Gary flipped through page after page, pausing when he got to an article under the local section. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes scanned through the small font.

_Chicago Police Search for Unidentified Man_

He swallowed hard when he read the description of the man. _Police are on the look out for a Caucasian man in his early thirties who is around six foot one and one hundred eight-five pounds with dark hair. _It was a vague description but it still made his palms grow sweaty. How many men in Chicago fit that build? _He was last seen wearing a black leather jacket and dark blue jeans. _If it weren't for the last line of the article, he wouldn't have put much more thought into it.

"Damn." His back slid down the wall until his body met up with the floor. He rested his arms on his knees. That was what he was wearing. But then again, there were many leather jackets and blue jeans. Maybe a circumstance? Highly unlikely, since three cops randomly gave chase to him yesterday. They probably went back to the station and told their lieutenant some outrageous story in hopes to get Gary put behind bars before he could speak of the situation he knew nothing about.

"Hobson?" He heard a knock on his door but didn't get up. He recognized the voice. "You home?"

"Come on in, Brigatti, the door is unlocked." He remained on the floor. "What brings you by?" He watched her walk across the room. Maybe she could help him. It would be good if he had caught the cop's names, but he didn't. In fact, he really didn't have a good way to describe them.

"What are you doing on the floor?" She arched her eyebrow and sat a styro-foam cup of coffee on his table. "I was on my way to work and thought I'd stop by and bring you something to eat. If you don't have anywhere to go to day I suggest you stick around the bar."

"Why?" He finally kicked his legs out in front, averting his body to a standing position. He knew why, it was forecasted as possibly one of the coldest days of winter on record.

"Have you watched the weather? Not supposed to get over negative fifteen today." She put a small bag beside his coffee. He took notice to the grease splotches that soaked through the side and figured it was either bagels or donuts. It didn't matter though; he wasn't hungry and probably wouldn't eat it anyway.

"Then why didn't you go straight to work? I had food here." It was so odd of her to stop by that he began to question the whole situation. Did they send here to see how much he knew? Or he could just be paranoid. Maybe she was just being nice.

"It was on my way, Hobson. Take it or leave it." She looked down at her watch. "I gotta get going."

He nodded and walked her to the door. "Thanks for bringing me breakfast, Brigatti. Sorry I wasn't a bundle of joy. Just have a lot on my mind." He grabbed the side of the door, looking down at his rug and back up at her. "See you later." Before she left he grabbed her arm, his fingertips digging deep into her suede coat. "Do you think you could stop by McGinty's after work? I've got something I want to ask you." He would have done it this morning to kill the anticipation, but she was going to be late and he didn't want to keep her any longer.

"Ask right now."

"No, it's already late and you need to get going. Just stop by after work. I'll be there."

"Okay then. Talk to you this evening." She turned on her heel made her exit. Gary watched her walk down his stairs and out of sight, swallowing some bile that was in the back of his throat. Maybe he could ask her if anything suspicious was happening in the department, but the chances of her knowing were about as good as a snowflake's chance in hell. They might not even be located in the same precinct as her.

He shut the door again, locking the deadbolt and latching the chain behind him. There were a few minor things in the paper he had to deal with and he was thankful for that. He knew he couldn't deal with some huge rescue at the moment. With everything running through his brain he was liable to kill everyone rather than helping them.

* * *

It was after six and every time the bells would jingle over the door of McGinty's Gary would glance up from what he was doing to see if Brigatti was walking through. He knew she would think he was completely crazy when he asked the questions he had thought up, but what was new? At times he could swear she was on the verge of throwing him in a padded room.

"Gary, you are so jumpy." Marissa sipped on her club soda and traced the outline of her coaster.

"How…" The bell chimed again and he jerked his head up, but it was only two businessmen dressed in dark suits. "How can you tell?" Sometimes he wondered if Marissa was really blind. She observed things so much better than most people who could see what was right in front of them did.

"Every time the door opens you stop what you are doing. I know you too well, Gary. Want to tell me what's wrong?"

He turned towards a customer and topped their beer off, wiping down a few drops that escaped from the pitcher. "You know what's wrong. I want to know what the hell happened yesterday, and why." He tried to keep his voice low, but the music was so loud that no one around him would have the faintest idea of what he was saying anyway.

"It's over and done. Let it go."

Gary gritted his teeth and twisted the towel tightly in his hand, turning the fibers until it felt as if the strings would rip in half. "Can you explain the article about the man that Chicago PD is searching for then? You know it's referring to me."

Marissa shook her head no. "We don't know that. You said so yourself, there are thousands of men in Chicago that could look like that."

Gary ignored her and took notice to three men sitting towards the back of the bar, close to the jukebox. He tried not to draw attention, but couldn't peel his eyes off of them. He wasn't too sure, but they looked oddly familiar. None of the three were in uniforms, but each looked somewhat like the officers that he had dealt with.

Brigatti's timing couldn't have been any better, and his nerves settled some when he saw her walk through the threshold. "Hey, I'm going to take a break. I'll be back in a minute." He nodded at his other bartender and placed his towel beside Marissa, touching her hand. "I'll be back. I need to go talk to Brigatti."

He waved at Brigatti and she strode towards him through the hazy smoke that blanketed the room. He kept one eye on her and one on the suspicious men in the corner. "Hey Hobson, why the worried look? What was it you needed to ask?"

He chewed on the inside of his cheek and grimaced at the fact that he wasn't hiding his mood too well. He took in a long sigh, smelling the hint of nicotine and whiskey that filled the atmosphere. "If you can't answer me, just say so."

Brigatti nodded, her brow creasing. "Okay."

"Are there any scandals going on within the department right now?"

Her immediate reaction told Gary that she thought he was a complete moron and was wrong for even asking, but he waited patiently for her to respond. "What? Why would you ask me something like that?"

Gary eyed the table and noticed that the men hadn't moved from their location. "Nothing. Never mind. Do you see those guys back at the back?" He didn't point, but motioned with his head. "Don't make it obvious, but when you get a chance take a look."

Brigatti glanced over her shoulder, turning back to him. "Nope, not a clue. Now why are you asking about scandals? What is wrong? Let me guess, you can't tell me? Is it one of your hunches?"

He tapped his fingertips on the surface of the wooden table, picking at some spots that were warped from years of wear and tear. "I've just been studying up on some of Chicago's police corruption in the past. Made me wonder if you knew about any right at this moment." It sounded redundant the moment he said it, but it was the best excuse he could find.

"No! What kind of cop do you think I am?"

"A good one. Which is why I think you'd have the upper hand on dirty cops and what they are up to."

He watched her facial expression change. One minute she was angry, the next she was calm. "I can't really talk about this." She ran her hands over her face. "We do suspect that a few of the cops in the twenty-eighth precinct are taking bribes and running drugs. Like I said, it's just a suspicion." She grabbed his hand. "Hobson, if this leaks to anyone I'll lose my job. And if I find out it has been released, I'll know exactly who spilled the information."

Gary leaned back in his chair and wondered why she didn't recognize the men. Maybe they weren't who he thought they were, or if they were the cops involved in the suspicion to begin with. He still had several pieces of the puzzle that were missing and could possibly be making something out of nothing. Either way, he wouldn't rest easy until he knew that the altercation with the cops was over.

"Your secret is safe with me."


	4. Chapter Three

Gary tossed and turned that night and buried his face deep down into his pillow. He folded it around his face and punched it in frustration. He rolled over on his back and watched the shadows that cascaded across his ceiling. It was a full moon outside, so it was much brighter outside than normal, especially for it being two AM.

He traced his fingertip along the fabric of his comforter, glaring at the alarm clock on his nightstand as if it were its fault that he was suffering from insomnia. Brigatti really didn't answer his questions well, which sent his mind into overdrive. If these three cops were involved in a drug ring it could be just as dangerous as messing with the mob. As they movies said, they never forget. His stomach wrenched at the thought that he could spend the rest of his days running from the Chicago Police Department.

His eyes widened. What if Brigatti was in on it? Gary shook his head at the thought. Not her, no way. She was a damn fine cop. But then again, he was naïve enough to think that about the majority of the brother's in blue until he learned about how common police corruption was in any department across the country.

Snow began to fall on the window outside, and he ambled to the pane, glancing out at the street below. Fat flakes slammed against the glass, making him step back. The refreshing scent of moisture crept through, overtaking his senses. It had a scent of cleanliness, with a hint of asphalt and exhaust mixed in. An orange hue radiated across the floor of his loft as the streetlights reflected off of the blanket of frost that was growing deeper by the second. He traced his fingers in the condensation. He usually could tolerate snow, but with temperatures below freezing it only meant he'd have to deal with icy patches in the morning.

Grumbling under his breath, he threw his body back down in the mattress and pulled the covers over his head. 'Stop thinking so much,' he thought to himself. His body finally began to drift off and a floating sensation made him sink lower into the mounds of covers.

Before he knew it, 6:30 rolled around and his alarm clock blared with early morning traffic reports. He woke up in the same position he had dozed in, and he hurled his covers off, pressing his palm down hard on the snooze button. He would have loved to catch another nine minutes of sleep, but a bang on the door made him fully awaken and his heart pounded as he picked up the newspaper on his rug.

More weather headlines. He flipped through the pages and went straight to the local section where the last article was located.

_Chicago PD Still On Lookout for Unidentified Suspect_

They were now referring to whoever it was as a suspect. His mouth grew dry. There was still no mention of a name, which was bittersweet for Gary. In a way, he'd like to know for sure that it was him they were looking for, but if his name was released he knew a number of people who would turn him in. _Suspect last seen on the corner of State Street. _His knees weakened and he sat down on his couch, reading over the article a few more times as if it would change on him.

He glanced up at the clock. It was 6:45 so he took a quick shower and got dressed. He wasn't sure where he was headed, but knew he had to get some questions answered before this drove him insane.

* * *

The snow only caused a hindrance the next day for Chicago drivers. The majority of articles were about fender benders and slips and falls, and Gary could easily take care of them on his way to his main destinations.

_Car Rear Ends Trash Truck_

He took note to the car, stepping out in front of it. It came to a screeching halt about a foot away from him and the driver blared their horn. Gary just shrugged and gave a sly smile and continued on his way.

_Woman Falls On Patch Of Ice, Breaks Tailbone_

"Be careful, ma'am." Gary grabbed the elderly lady's arm, pulling her around the slush. "Don't want you to fall."

"Mind your own business! Who do you think you are?" She glared at him, and he continued to walk. He was so used to negative results that it no longer bothered him.

He wished more days could be slow on the news, but he could win for losing. Even though not much was going on in the line of saving people he had to deal with his personal stuff. There was no such thing as a day of rest. He stood at a crosswalk, waiting on the signal to change so he could cross the street.

The light turned green, and he moved along with the crowd of people. His shoes sloshed through the ice, and he could feel the coldness blast down to his socks. He should have worn his boots but it was too late now.

"Hey you!"

At first Gary didn't turn to look, but he felt a hand clasp hold of his bicep, and he turned to see a familiar face on an adjacent sidewalk. He tried to pull away when he recognized who it was, but the man's grip was too much.

"Where you going? We told you the other day, we just want to talk."

Gary didn't know what to say and felt the stranger pull hard on his arm. His fingertips dug through his layers of clothes, pinching his skin below. It didn't do any good to resist, so he allowed the man to lead him into an alleyway where the other two cops waited. He took note to the fact that they were all dressed in normal street clothes.

"Who are you and what do you want with us?" The heaviest officer spoke up, getting right in Gary's face. Gary pulled back, wincing at the man's potent breath. "You certainly screwed up, whatever the case."

Gary licked his lips, feeling the cold brush up against him. "I'm not…" He trailed off. "I don't know…"

"He's stuttering. Something is up." The youngest of the three reared back, sending his fist hard into Gary's gut, causing him to hunch over in pain from the unexpected blow to his midsection. He retched and dry heaved, thankful nothing came up. "How's that, wise guy? That refresh your memory?"

Gary braced himself on a near wall, blinking away the stars in his vision. "I don't know what you guys want from me." He was finally able to stand up straight and flinched when the same man lunged at him, but didn't follow through with his attack.

"We want to know why you are following us. How much do you know?"

"I don't know anything. I just saw a guy getting beat up and I was going to help him." He didn't even buy his own story, and he knew it was true so he knew these guys wouldn't for sure.

The heavyset man balled his fist and hit Gary across the face and his body collided with the same brick wall he had just hunched himself against. His eyesight grew black for a moment, but when he came to the three men were blurs in front of him. His cheeked throbbed and he felt warm fluid flow from it.

"You listen here. If you so much as go to anyone about what you know or have seen, your ass will be put away for good. We can plant any type of crime on you, remember that. You better sleep with one eye open." The third of the group finally chimed in and Gary put his hand up to wipe away some blood that had dripped down and soaked into his shirt. "You hear me, boy?"

Gary pursed his lips and nodded. He didn't know what else to do except not argue and get out of the alley as soon as he could. He turned to walk away and the sound of the same guy's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Not one word."

* * *

Gary winced as he lifted his shirt up in front of the mirror. A huge bruise was forming around his ribcage and he noticed the hues of yellow mixed within the black. He ran his fingertips over it, flinching at the twinge of pain that shot through his body. His face was the same story. There was a scratch on his cheekbone about an inch long, as well as some swelling.

He turned the water on, allowing the luke warm liquid to run through his hands. He splashed some on his face, savoring the calming feeling he felt. The music from the bar pounded the walls of the bathroom, making his head ache.

He turned from the sink and made his way back to the bar, preparing himself for comments and remarks about his bruised up face. Keeping his gaze downward, Gary went to the back before anyone could get a good glimpse at him, but Jerry, one of his best men, followed him.

"Hobson, what in the hell? You okay man?"

Gary grabbed an aspirin from the first aid kit and swallowed two with a swig of water. He had no idea what he was going to come up with for an excuse, so his mind worked quickly. "I'm fine. Ran into a cabinet door this morning. What a klutz."

"That looks pretty bad, Gar. You might need to have it looked at."

Gary eyed the older man. "No, it's just a scratch." He grabbed a towel, walking back out to the bar. It was getting busy, and hopefully it would draw the attention off of him and to the customers who waited impatiently for their beverages.

He was so preoccupied with work that he didn't notice Marissa at the far end, sitting alone with her club soda in hand. It needed a refill, so he strode down to her. "Marissa, you need some more?"

She nodded. "How did it go today?"

He watched the liquid fizzle up, the bubbles sending off a mist from the top of the glass. He leaned over the surface of the counter, feeling the instant surge of pain from his bruised ribs. "I uhh, it didn't go well Marissa."

"What do you mean?" Her brow creased, and she grabbed for his hand. "What happened?"

"Let's just say that the cops I saw are definitely up to something. And they think I know. They don't believe that I have no clue what they are up to." He debated on whether or not to tell her about the physical attack. She'd probably figure it out eventually from other's observations. "They smacked me around a bit, but I'm okay. I'm fine."

Her fingers tightened around his hand. "What did they do to you?"

"It's nothing Marissa. Hit me in the face as a warning." He decided to leave out the part about his ribs. No one would know about that but him. "I gotta get back to work, Marissa. I'll talk to you later."

* * *

That night he couldn't get in a comfortable position. No matter what side he laid on his body didn't cooperate. It wasn't even that hard of a blow to his body yet it caused such a hindrance. He wasn't sure how he could not sleep, he was exhausted from the night before.

His mind raced with the possibilities of his situation. At least now he knew for sure that they wanted him. He just wanted to know why. Maybe if he could give them some answers they'd leave him alone, but he had no idea where to even begin with making anything up. Corruption within the department could run from something as simple as charging someone with the wrong crime to planting evidence on the innocent. To make matters worse, he didn't have solid ground to go turn them in. He didn't know their names or the precinct they worked for.

What really made him sick was the matter of trust. If you couldn't trust police officials to help you out, who could you trust? What if he went to turn them in and the others were in on the same scheme? That would mean more than three would be after him. He hated to think this, but Brigatti was someone he'd have to look out for.

His phone rang and he jolted up out of bed, debating on answering it or not. It was after midnight and anger shot through his mind. He reached for the receiver, fumbling with it. "Hello?"

"You remember what we said, Hobson. Not one word to anyone. We don't care what bureau you are with. We will get you."

Gary's pulse quickened. "How do you know my name?" No matter how hard he tried, his words came out shaky.

"We are Chicago Police. We can do whatever the hell we want. What makes you think you can step in and screw all of that up? You are messing with the wrong crowd, bud. Besides, do you really know how many people are on _our_ side? You are outnumbered."

"I don't know…" Before Gary could finish the dial tone shot through, and he stared at the phone for a long second before hanging it back up. Even if he couldn't fully trust Brigatti, she was his only chance at getting some information. He sat back against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Gary wasn't even sure if Brigatti was going to be at work when he arrived down at the precinct, but it was worth a shot. He ducked his head and tried to keep a low profile as he walked up the front steps. It was a challenge to not look paranoid. The last thing he needed was being arrested on suspicion for some type of crime he didn't commit.

He approached the desk sergeant, his eyes downcast. "Is Detective Brigatti in?"

The sergeant took a moment to answer. "I suppose she's in her office. Can I tell her who you are?"

Gary nodded and backpedaled to the bench behind him where he sat and waited. He observed cops that were bringing in what looked like the scum of the earth. Men who looked like they had gone weeks without a shower. Women who were tattered from years of heavy drug use. People proclaiming their innocence as they tried to fight out of their handcuffs. He swallowed hard. How many of these people truly were innocent, but fell into the hands of corruption? He hated that he thought of Chicago's finest that way, but since this happened to him he couldn't help it.

"Hobson. You going to sit there all day or come back to my office?" Brigatti stood in front of him, and he wondered how long she had been standing there. "What happened to your face?"

He stood up, brushing the wound with his index finger. "That's why I'm here, actually."

"You want to report someone?" She glanced over her shoulder at him as they entered her small office. "Have a seat."

His body nestled down in the cushion. She kept a pretty clean office aside from a few stacks of paperwork. "No. I want to talk about what I asked you at McGinty's the other day."

Her eyes widened and she closed the door behind her. "About corruption within the department?"

He nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Go on." She waved her hands in front.

He licked his lips and shifted his weight. "Yesterday I got cornered by three Chicago cops. I know they are guilty of something, I just don't know what."

She smirked, and it made Gary angry. "And what makes you think they are guilty of something. That intuition you get?"

He pursed his lips. "I saw them beating on a guy in an alley. When they saw me they chased me and now they won't stop harassing me. They claim that I know too much and I better not say anything about it."

"Did you get their names? What makes you so sure they are cops?"

Gary slammed his foot against the side of the desk, unable to keep a cap on his emotions. "They were in uniforms. And no, I didn't get their names. There was a young cop, an overweight cop, and uhh…" He paused as he searched for a way to describe the third one. "A normal one." He shrugged. "He was quiet. More mysterious than the other two."

Brigatti folded her arms over her chest. "That's all you got for me. A young cop? A fat cop? And a mysterious one? Do you realize you just described over three fourths of the department?"

"I'm sorry Brigatti, but it's all I got." He kept his voice low, knowing that she couldn't help him with the little bit of information he had. He stood up. "I'm sorry I wasted your time."

Turning on his heel, he headed out of her office, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Her reaction didn't tell him much. She could be involved or not, he still wasn't sure. It was time to do this on his own like he intended to in the first place.


	5. Chapter Four

Gary shut the door to his loft, throwing the newspaper out in front of him. It scattered in different directions, drifting down to the floor below him. He wasn't a detective and never claimed to be one and here he was left alone to piece together a mystery that had become a sharp reality to him. He leaned up against the door, fighting the urge to pick up the paper and skim through the articles that were facing up, but it was like someone telling him not to look down. He just had to.

An image stared back up at him. He knelt down on the floor, his finger skimming the article beneath his photograph. _Police still do not know the identity of the suspect, but have brought in a sketch artist. _Thankfully it was a rough drawing, but enough for someone to recognize him. He swallowed hard and ran his hands over his face. The article had still failed to tell him what he was wanted for, but it was evident there was a witness if someone could describe him well enough to draw.

He heard a light tap on his door and it startled him. He stood up and walked to the door, peering through the peephole. He leaned his head against the wood, sighing. It was Marissa. He unchained the latch and opened the deadbolt.

"Hey Marissa."

"You never lock the deadbolt. Are you sure you're okay?"

He led her to the couch and sat beside her, observing the scattered newspaper all over the living room. "It looks like I've got to do this on my own. Brigatti thinks I'm a lunatic."

"Are you still dead set on that article being about you?" She undid her scarf and folded it in her lap.

He grabbed the local section of the newspaper as if she could see it, pointing at the sketch of himself. "The article today shows a drawing. It's me, Marissa. It still doesn't mention my crime."

"That means today is your last day before your identity is released to the public." She pursed her lips. "Gary, do you have any idea of where to start on this? Why don't you just go to the police captain or something? He's sure to do something."

Gary leaned back on the couch, grimacing from the soreness. "I have nothing to turn in. I don't know their names. I have very vague descriptions. I need some solid evidence to get them." He stood up and paced back and forth in front of the TV. "If I could just follow them. Get some pictures or something."

Marissa nodded but Gary could tell she wasn't exactly fond of that idea. "How would you know where to find them?"

He shrugged and threw his hand in the air. Another question he didn't have an answer to. "They'll probably find me first. I know they are watching me. They called me last night and threatened me again. They know my name."

"Oh no, Gary." She gasped and sat on the edge of the couch cushion.

He ran his hands through his hair and stared out of the window, down to the street below. Numerous people were hurrying down the sidewalk, some bundled heavily in layers of winter clothing and some with nothing more than a light windbreaker on. Gary breathed in heavily, hoping an idea would hit him before it was too late.

* * *

It was four PM and already it seemed like the sun was setting. Gary looked up at the sky and back down at his feet, nearly bumping in to a jogger that quickly passed by. He nodded and gave a small wave, thankful that the woman had barely noticed. He hadn't yet eaten for the day, and his stomach grumbled.

A thick aroma of freshly baked bread tingled his nostrils and made his saliva glands work overtime. He turned to the left and saw a small delicatessen on the corner. He entered and was thankful they weren't too busy. He ordered a turkey and Swiss on wheat bread and sat down in a corner booth, scarfing down the tasteful sandwich.

Every time someone would pass by the window or enter the establishment he would look up. He wanted to find the three cops but it was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. The most frustrating part about the whole thing was that they weren't far away from Gary. He knew they were watching his every move.

He balled a napkin up in his fist and wiped his face. Thinking about the situation made him lose his appetite, so he threw the remaining half of his lunch away. The streets began to flood with traffic as rush hour approached. Normally he tried to avoid being out during that time of day, but today it gave him a sense of security. The more people that surrounded him the safer he felt. The chances of the cops attempting another attack would be minimal.

He looked at overhangs on buildings. Side streets. Cars that were parked on the curb. No sign of anything. He was acting very suspicious, so he tried to be normal, whatever normal meant. He continued to glance over his shoulder every few steps. The same crowd was behind him. Mothers pushing baby strollers. Businessmen yapping on cell phones. Panhandlers trying to squeeze whatever money they could out of anyone who would listen.

"Hey you! Stop right there!" Gary didn't know the comment was made at him, so he continued down the street until he felt someone run up behind him, grabbing his arm from behind. "Hey! Stop!"

He turned around and to his surprise, wasn't all that flustered when he saw the three officers. "You are under arrest. Get your ass up against that wall." They slammed him against the brick, his head busting up against the wall. "You have the right to remain silent…" That was all Gary heard and his vision grew black…

* * *

"You took a pretty nasty spill, are you okay?" An unfamiliar face threw an icepack on the table and Gary watched as it skidded into his lap. His vision was a bit fuzzy but he blinked a few times and it went back to normal. He thankfully accepted it and put it on his forehead. Every time the wound would throb a sharp pain would shoot through his head. "I'm Detective Ussery. You are a hard man to find, Gary Hobson."

Gary stared at him, still very confused about what was happening. He wasn't sure if that was an invitation to speak, so he waited.

"You were arrested for assault." The detective set down across from him, his expression blank. "Want to explain what happened?"

Gary picked at the table and noticed several initials carved in the surface. "I'm not sure what you are talking about. I haven't been in a fight."

"What happened to your eye? That isn't a recent injury from today." The detective pointed at him, his finger almost touching Gary. "We've got three cops that say you hit one of them while they were trying to arrest you after a bar fight. That's assault on a police officer. Do you realize how long you can stay in jail for something like that?"

Gary stared at Detective Ussery but still had no response. It was obvious he was being framed. He looked up at the mirror across from him and had seen enough crime shows and movies in his day to know that there was an observation room behind it, and he could guarantee that the three cops he had been dealing with the past few days were watching.

He took note to his reflection in the glass. Dark bags were forming under his eyes. The black eye was beginning to heal, but still had a yellow tint from the bruising. And now his forehead had a scrape mark and a knot from the wall he was pushed up against. He looked back down at his hands, the tension growing thick in the room.

"Gary, if you don't have anything to say in defense I guess we better lock you up. You need us to provide you with a lawyer?"

Before Gary could answer, the door to the interrogation room opened and Brigatti entered. It caught him off guard but he was relieved to see a familiar face. He sat up, hoping she was here to help.

"Give me a minute with him, Ussery." Brigatti's stare was haunting, like she could burn a hole right through him. She waited until Ussery was out of the room and turned back to Gary. "What in the hell is going on? Why are you here?"

Gary shrugged, really not sure himself. "To be honest, I don't know. They say that three of your guys are claiming that I hit them. I must have been sleep walking because…"

"Three guys?" She cut him off, glancing down at the paperwork in front of her. "Officers Willitz, Hauser, and Allison. Those names ring a bell to you?" She looked up. "That's whose names are on the bottom of this report."

Gary's stomach jolted. He couldn't be certain, but they could possibly be the three men who had been after him. "No, I have no clue who they are." He was going to regret the next question, but he had to ask it. "Do you personally know them?"

Brigatti nodded.

"They pretty decent guys? Upstanding citizens?" Gary kept his voice low. They could probably hear every word he said.

"I don't work with them that much to know, but I assume they are good guys." Her facial expression told him that she caught on to his reasoning. "You don't think…" She shifted towards the mirror and went silent. That was Gary's next clue that they were definitely watching this entire conversation.

"Detective Ussery, you can come back in now." She spoke to the wall, and it took him a matter of seconds to open the squeaky door that seemed to echo through the hollow brick walls that surrounded them. "I think we need to release him."

Detective Ussery began to object but Brigatti spoke again before he had a chance to get a word in edgewise. "We don't have enough to hold him. He's got no priors. Let's just let this go. Is it really worth the paperwork?"

Gary watched on as the two cops debated, wondering what Brigatti's reasoning was. Was she on his side? He didn't even have to explain himself to her and she was trying to help him, or at least he hoped that was her intention. His head began to pound and the light shining above the table made the back of his eye sockets ache.

Ussery folded his arms across his chest and smirked. "And what do I tell Officer Hauser? He's the one that says Hobson hit him."

Brigatti rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. "You and I both know that Hauser wasn't assaulted. He's always saying stuff like that. The suspect could accidentally tap him on the shoulder and he'd claim physical abuse. Trust me, Hobson is innocent."

Gary wished they would stop talking about him as if he wasn't in the room. He scooted his chair forward, trying to make his presence known even though the two detectives hadn't forgotten about him.

Ussery cleared his throat and glared at Gary. "Fine, cut him loose. I hope you know what you are doing Brigatti." He slammed the door and it made Gary jump. He took in a deep breath and wished Brigatti wasn't so hard to read. Was she on his side or was she not? He didn't want to blatantly ask her. Regardless of her answer, he'd still question it.

"Thanks for letting me go." He eyed the worn out mortar between two bricks that were behind her.

"Don't make me regret this, Hobson." She picked up the papers that were scattered on the table and stacked them neatly between her palms. "Don't do anything stupid. The chances that it's the same three guys you claim are bothering you is low."

He scoffed. "They are the one's that arrested me today. And Ussery specifically said three witnessed the assault." He formed quotation marks with his hands and tried to make the sarcasm heavy in his voice. "Something needs to be done, and you already made it clear you don't want to get your hands dirty." He clenched his jaw in annoyance. "Can I go now?"

Brigatti said nothing and walked to the door, opening it. He grabbed his leather coat and looked her up and down before he walked back out into the hustle and bustle. 'She can't even look me in the eye', he thought. His attention quickly turned elsewhere, scanning the room for the nuisances. They were nowhere in sight, and he let out a sigh of relief.

The cold Chicago air hit him hard, and he ducked his head into his collar to avoid the chill that nipped at his face.

* * *

"Brigatti let him go?" Officer Hauser, the youngest of the three, threw his hands in the air. "Why? We had him locked up. No one would believe a prisoner if they accused us of something!"

"We've got to find out who this Hobson guy is with. The FBI? Maybe internal affairs." Officer Allison dug into his Chinese food, savoring the salty sauce that trickled down his chin into his goatee. "If he knew anything don't you think he'd have said something by now?"

"Maybe he already has said something. Maybe he alerted Brigatti and that's why she let him go. So he can gather more evidence." Hauser paced back and forth, running his hands through his red hair. "That bitch! Hasn't she ever heard of being true to the brotherhood in blue?"

Officer Willitz finally spoke up, and Allison could tell he was growing annoyed with the assumptions they were throwing out. "Would you two shut the hell up? We've got Hobson right where we want him. He's paranoid. He knows we are following him. Just be patient. Eventually we will get rid of him."

"And how do you know that? He's slipped through the cracks so far." Allison wiped his face clean, reaching for his fortune cookie.

"Just gotta have the right timing. He'll be a face on a milk cartoon soon. No one will ever know what happened to Gary Hobson."

* * *

Gary was so tired that he could barely gain enough energy to walk up the stairs to his loft. He gripped the handrail and made the first step, ignoring the fact that his body was screaming out in pain. He was never so happy to reach his front door, and he flopped down hard on his couch, too lazy to even grab the TV remote that was a few feet away from him.

His head was pounding so he walked to the kitchen and swallowed four ibuprofen and about half a bottle of water from his refrigerator. The cold liquid shocked his system, accentuating his headache for a split second. He leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. Images of the three men flooded his vision, and he quickly grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and jotted their names down before he forgot them.

"Willitz, Hauser and Allison." He spoke out loud. Sitting down at his kitchen table, he focused on his handwriting until the gray led from the pencil went blurry. He had no idea what he was going to do next, but was thankful to have some names to work with.

He stalked to his bed and sat on the edge. Maybe tonight he could get some rest and get over the insomnia that had plagued him the past few nights. He took one more glance at the newspaper. The article that contained his sketch was replaced by a story about a bicycle thief on the south side of town. He smirked and threw the paper in the trashcan in the corner of the room and fell backwards onto his sheets. His mind raced with how he would try and crack the case, but he couldn't fight the exhaustion any longer, and his body drifted off into a much needed slumber.


	6. Chapter Five

_"Well if it isn't Gary Hobson. You really slipped through our fingers. Your precious Brigatti bailed you out. Bet you thought she was there to help. But guess what? She let you go so we could kill you and dump your body in Lake Michigan. You'll be just another missing person that people will soon forget about. Brigatti's on our side, not yours!"_

Gary's eyes jolted open and he fell out of his bed, his body hitting the floor below him with a loud thud. He felt a tug on his leg and noticed that it was still raveled up in the sheets on top of the bed. He pulled himself loose and wiped his palm over his brow. His shirt was soaked in sweat and he quickly pulled it over his head and tossed it in the corner adjacent to him.

It took a moment for him to gain his composure and he leaned his head back on the metal bed frame behind him. It was cool on his scalp. His breathing finally began to slow down and he slid his alarm clock across his nightstand to see what time it was. Four AM. He had only been asleep for five hours, but it seemed like two.

The dream filled him with questions. Gary wasn't sure which cop was speaking to him but for some reason, knew it was one of them. It only heightened his fear that Brigatti was involved in this. He never believed that dreams were based off of the truth, but in this situation it got him thinking. _Don't read too much into it._ He had to convince himself that the only reason it had come up was because it was so fresh on his mind. Everyone did that. Dreams came from people's subconscious and Brigatti was definitely present in his thoughts.

He pushed his legs against the floor, fighting the heavy feeling that settled on his shoulders. His body didn't want to move and he groaned when he finally got to a standing position. Thankfully the snow had stopped falling, but from what he could tell from his loft window, there was about a foot that had drifted onto the sidewalks below him.

His bed looked so comfortable and physically he knew he needed to rest, but mentally it was not possible. He stood at the foot of his bed and stared down at the plainly patterned comforter. Dark and light hues of blue made up the plaid design. He fell face first onto the mattress and felt it slide across the floor from the quick weight thrown at it.

Oh, how he wanted to doze off and sleep for days, but before he knew it, it was six thirty and the cat was right on time.

* * *

"Any big news stories today?" Marissa sipped on her mug of coffee and paused. "Anything else about the cops looking for you?"

Gary hadn't told her about his arrest yet and felt a sudden twinge of guilt. "They took me in for questioning yesterday afternoon." He took note to her facial expression and wasn't sure if she was hurt or mad that he didn't call her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I went straight home after they released me and crashed."

"Well, what happened?"

He glanced up at her and back down at the article that had caught his attention.

_Young Child Falls Through Thin Ice_

"Gar? What happened? What made them want to let you go?"

Her voice pulled him away from the fine print, but only long enough to give her a quick answer. "Brigatti pulled some strings." His finger traced down each line as he read it. "Marissa, I gotta go. There's a kid that's going to fall through the ice and die."

He ran out of the front door of McGinty's, dodging people and traffic and tried to ignore the fact that his leg muscles were extremely tight from the winter weather. The sidewalks were slick and he had to slow his pace to make sure that he wouldn't fall. He hailed a cab just a few blocks from the bar. He wasn't sure if his lungs could take much more of the large gulps of icy air.

"Belmont Harbor." Gary grabbed the newspaper from inside his jacket, checking the article one last time to make sure nothing had changed. His fingers drummed against the door handle and he fought the urge to just jump out and run whenever the taxi got caught at a light. It was 8:45 and according to the article he had fallen through at 9:00. Leaning forward, he bit the tip of his thumb as he thought about everything he had to deal with today.

"You okay, man? Have one too many cups of coffee this morning?"

"I'm just in a hurry. How much longer?"

"A couple of blocks. What business do you have at the marina anyway? It's all iced over and closed down for winter. Nobody will be there."

'_Which is why a kid will die if you don't plow over these cars in front of us._ Gary reached in his back pocket and grabbed his wallet, throwing some money at him, hoping it was enough to cover the distance traveled. "I gotta go. Thanks." He flung the door open and sprinted through the halted traffic, sliding over layers of ice and snow that were packed down on the street.

Boats were tied up near the piers and it made it harder for Gary to spot anybody. His shoes dragged through the thick snow that had gathered over the walkway and he slowed to look in each storage area. No sign of anything. The paper didn't mention the boy's name so he yelled whatever he could think of to get attention. "Hello? Is anyone here?" He paused and heard nothing. "Hey! If someone is here, you need to step away from the water!"

He glanced down at his watch. It was 8:58. His pulse quickened. A loud splash erupted behind him, and he turned just in time to see the boy's head before it went under the water. Gary leaned his body over the edge of the pier, grateful that the ice was windswept and the snow that had accumulated over it had drifted off. There was a muffled view of the boy underneath the surface.

"Hey!" He punched at the ice but it only stung his knuckles. The ice was nowhere near breaking and some drops of blood dripped down from his hand. The child looked to be sinking lower and lower so Gary only had one more option. He took his coat off and threw it to the side and stepped down onto the frozen water. It crackled under his boots and he prepared himself for the below freezing temperatures he was about to feel.

His body finally fell through and he held his breath. The ice felt like shards of glass hitting him at every angle and he did all he could to not go into shock. The water was murky but the boy's bright red jacket was enough for him to make out, and he kicked his legs frantically, trying to get deeper in the water. He reached out, but couldn't tell if the boy was still conscious. The fabric of the coat was slick, so Gary dug his fingers deep down into it. The kid slipped out of his grasp but he reached down again, grabbing him just in time.

His legs jerked, as his need for oxygen became more apparent. He needed a breath of fresh air, and some form or warmth. The surface was mere inches away, and he fought hard through the pain that took over every inch of him. They finally broke to the top and Gary had never cherished oxygen the way he had at that moment. Thankfully, a crowd had gathered around by then and a young woman helped with lifting the boy out. They had blankets waiting, and Gary gladly accepted them. Amazingly, the boy was awake and talking. The paramedics took him and Gary sat down and wrapped himself as tight as he could under the brown blanket that had 'Chicago EMS' stenciled on it.

"We need to check you out." Two medics knelt down beside him and Gary wanted to stand up and run off. "How long were you in the water?"

Gary shrugged and thought about it for a moment. It seemed like an eternity but it was only around a minute. "Not that long. Short enough that I could hold my breath." He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm fine. I just need to get home and get in some dry clothes." His teeth chattered. He didn't want to beg them, but a hospital was the last place he wanted to be. It was probably a mistake, turning down EMS service, but what more could they do for him?

"I'll take it from here." A familiar voice hit Gary hard and he looked up to see the oldest cop of the three that had been bothering him. "I need him to write my report. I'll give him a ride to his house so he can get warmed up."

Gary's stomach tightened and he wanted to scream out and say no, but who would listen to him? The man had a badge and he was just a civilian who was crazy enough to dive into frozen water. "Actually, I want to go to the… hospital." Gary had never felt so scared in his life. If he were capable, he would have tried to get away.

"Anything you guys can do for him in the back of that ambulance?" The cop chewed on the tip of a toothpick and shot Gary a hateful look.

"No, not really. It would probably be best to get him in some dry clothes. We were just going to take him in for observation. If you want, you can bring him by the hospital after you take him by his house. We'll just tell dispatch he was transported by PD."

Before Gary could object to any of it, he felt the man's beefy fingers dig into his pruney skin, pinching him. He tried jerking away but his grasp was much stronger than the little energy Gary had. "I don't want to go with him." Gary spoke over his shoulder right before he was shoved in the back of the cop car.

"We are beyond what you want, Hobson." He pushed Gary into the seat, the top of his head grazing the doorframe, his vision blurring for a split second as he fell into the stained upholstery. "You have a nice swim?"

Gary said nothing. His mind raced with ways to escape, but nothing came to mind. He looked out the window, trying to figure out where they were headed but gave up. He had gotten a glance at the nametag on his lapel. Officer Allison. He took a turn so fast that it sent Gary across the back seat of the car, slamming him against the opposite door.

"You really should buckle up. Never know when a wreck could happen." Allison's teeth chopped down on the pick, making Gary fight the urge to hurl. "How did you know that kid was going to fall through?"

Gary ignored him again, his mind only focusing on the cold that shot through his body. The blanket he was wrapped in was now completely soaked from his drenched clothes and was serving no purpose except to accentuate the uncomfortable feeling. Allison had the heat on, but the vents were all pointed away from the back seat.

"What's the matter? You that cold that you can't talk? Your lips are a little blue. Don't die on me. We haven't had our fun yet."

Gary closed his eyes and nestled his head against the window. The glass was cool but it didn't phase him. His body quivered and he couldn't control it no matter how hard he tried. He ran his fingertips over his arm but he was so numb that he couldn't feel it. Taking in a deep breath, a sharp pain shot through his chest. He winced but tried to hide his discomfort.

"What organization are you with. ATF? FBI? We've had this drug ring for several years now. No one ever caught on until you. We've been running drugs all the way from Mexico. Until your little appearance in that alley we didn't have a thing to worry about."

Officer Allison's eyes looked evil in the rear view mirror and Gary stared back at him until his face got cloudy. He was so exhausted but fought it off.

"You know Hobson, I heard that falling asleep was a side effect of frostbite. The victim passes out and then dies. And we aren't going to your apartment for dry clothes."

Allison's voice sounded so distant to Gary. It was as if he was hundreds of feet away, rather than being in the seat in front of him. He swallowed hard and curled up in a ball. He couldn't fight it. Not anymore. He was in too much pain. His eyelids fluttered shut and his vision was replaced by darkness.

* * *

The first thing Gary noticed when he woke up was the painful headache that shot from his brow, all the way down his neck and to his back. He looked around, blinking hard to try and clear his eyesight. There were voices behind him. He turned to look and his joints crackled. He gritted his teeth and saw Hauser, Willitz, and Allison sitting around a table. It looked as if they were playing cards.

With as little movement as possible, Gary tried to get into a more comfortable position. From what he could tell, he was lying on the floor in the living room of someone's apartment. His hands were cuffed behind him and the cold metal was digging hard into his wrists. His clothes were now dry and stiff, but he still had not adjusted to the temperature within the room. Unable to keep still, his legs kicked and he knocked over a lamp on the coffee table beside him.

"Oh, look who is awake!" The youngest scooted his chair across the linoleum floor, sending a shrieking pain through Gary's head. "You want to join us in a game of poker?" They were all still in their uniforms. This wise guy was Hauser. "We aren't playing for money." His eyebrow arched, "Just for your life."

Gary let out a heavy sigh. He hated this. Every bit of it. He was so vulnerable and couldn't do anything about it. What scared him the most was the fact that no one knew he had been kidnapped. Except for maybe the paramedics at the hospital. "Don't you think…" He paused and coughed from the dryness deep in his throat. "Don't you think that the hospital might be wondering where I'm at?"

Hauser tapped Gary's face with his palm. "We called them. Said you decided not to go in. It's a patient refusal, not much we can do about it."

Gary closed his eyes and hoped that when he opened them he'd be in his own bed and this would all be a horrible dream. Reality struck him hard when Hauser pulled the hair on the top of his head, sliding him into the kitchen where the other two men were. He groaned from the sharp, stabbing twinge.

The floor was dirty. He could feel the grit from dust that had gathered from who knew how long. Hauser's fingers were still intertwined in his hair and he clamped down, slamming Gary's head into the tile. Stars flooded his site and black outlined everything.

"We don't want him to pass out again. Get his ass up here in a chair." Willitz pulled out the fourth seat and patted it, welcoming him. "See if he can get up on his own first."

Gary didn't move. He didn't have the energy, nor did he have the desire to play cards with men who were trying to kill him. His head throbbed and he could feel dirt stick to his skin from the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead. A sharp pain cracked through his rib cage, catching him off guard. A cough erupted from deep in his lungs, tickling his chest but sharpening the ache in his side.

"Grab his shoulders. Kicking him isn't going to make him move any faster." Allison and Hauser pulled him up and he was so limp that they struggled with his weight. He didn't even care to bend and work with them. The handcuffs were the next thing to come off and he felt instant relief when he brought his arms back in front of him. "Hobson, you ever play five card draw?"

Gary put his elbow on the table and leaned his face on his hand. He was so tired that his head felt like a lead balloon. Sitting up made his back feel better but the chair wasn't comfortable in the least bit. He looked at the deck of cards. The back design was the well-known man on the bicycle, but the red began to bleed together as he drifted into a light sleep.

A loud slap on the table jerked him awake. "Hobson, you might want to stay awake for this. This particular game of five card draw is going to tell you how you are going to die."

Gary glared at him from the corner of his eye, grabbing the five cards in front of him. He fanned them out in his fingers. Squinting, he noticed that the hand he was dealt was all trash. A two of spades. An ace of diamonds. King of hearts. Six of diamonds. And last but not least, a seven of clubs. Seven. He wanted to laugh. Normally that number showed good luck. Here it just meant he couldn't even get good fortune in a game of cards.

"What are we playing for?" Gary's voice was still very raspy from the lack of moisture in his throat.

Willitz leaned forward, smirking. "If I win we are going to tie you down and throw you in the lake. If Officer Hauser wins, a shot to the head. And Officer Allison," he paused and stared at Gary for a few moments. "If he wins we are going to beat you to death."

"And if I win?" He wasn't sure why he asked this, he already knew the answer.

Willitz's eyes twinkled. "If you win you get to choose which way out of those three options. Regardless of the outcome, you will die."

Gary couldn't hold it in any longer and leaned over the table, throwing up what little contents he had in his stomach. It was mostly just acid and water that burned all the way up his esophagus. He dry heaved a few times before the hurling stopped. He wiped his mouth clean with his sleeve and felt their eyes on him.

"If I were you, I'd hope that Hauser wins."

Gary took another glance down at his cards. What had he done to these men to carry something like this so far? Even if he wanted to lie about following them and being onto their drug ring, there was no way he could think up a good fib in time.


	7. Chapter Six

Brigatti felt paranoid. Since Gary had come to her with the allegations of corruption within the precinct she had been observing her fellow brothers in blue a little more closely. She felt rotten to do so, after all, they were her family, but she knew that corruption was a growing problem in the department.

She glanced at the empty chair across from her desk, recalling her recent conversation with Gary. He sat right there, his demeanor uneasy and his eyes downcast. He just needed help and she turned him away. When had he ever failed her before? She wasn't sure how or why, but the man knew things. Almost as if he were psychic. He had chosen her to come to and she turned him away.

She could tell by the look in his eye that he didn't trust her anymore. It made her sick to her stomach to know that it had taken so long to build that trust up, but a split second to lose it. She really couldn't blame the guy. Cops were supposed to be a lifeline for civilians and he had to look over his shoulder for those that should never use their badge in a negative way. She had to get his trust back.

Detective Ussery's office wasn't too far from hers so she walked the three doors down and tapped on the doorframe, interrupting his phone call. "Ussery, do you have the report from Gary Hobson's arrest?"

Ussery sifted through some paperwork, supporting the phone between his left shoulder and his cheek. He nodded at her and held up a red folder. "What do you want with it? You insisted on letting the guy go."

"I just need it to do a follow up. I'll bring it back to you in a minute." She ran her fingertips over the papers and exited before Ussery could say anything else.

She stared at the names signed on the bottom of the report. She didn't know much about the three men except that Hauser cried wolf on more than one occasion. She had to find out more about them.

The desk sergeant's head was buried in paperwork as she approached him. "Can you give me a twenty on Hauser, Allison and Willitz?" It was time to find out where they were and get some answers, even if it meant turning this into an internal investigation, no matter how backstabbing it made her feel.

* * *

Gary's mouth grew pasty and he licked his lips, but no moisture came out. The taste was stale from throwing up recently and he winced from the throbbing headache that seemed to move all the way down his neck.

He moved his fingers alongside the cards in his hand, leaving a wet stain from the sweat that had gathered on his palms. What cards was he going to get rid of? His breathing grew heavy and he leaned forward. He threw down all four except for the ace of diamonds.

"I believe Mr. Hobson wants four." Hauser smirked and dealt out the replacements and Gary eyed each one as it slid across the table. One began to slide off of the table and he reacted quickly enough to prevent it. Turning it over, he realized it was an ace of spades. Other than that he had nothing. It didn't matter if he won or not, they weren't going to give him the choice to live.

"Moment of truth. Everyone show what ya got." Willitz smiled, revealing his teeth that were beginning to rot. "Hobson, what did you get dealt?"

Gary swallowed hard, his throat burning. He rubbed his eyes, blinking back dryness and dirt that had gathered near his tear ducts from the filthy floor he was lying on earlier. He said nothing and set the moist cards down, folding his arms over his chest. He tried reading the men's reactions but they stood strong and none of their facial expressions changed.

He couldn't let this happen. To give up this easily would be like spitting in his own face. He could get up and run, but where? He had no idea where he was or where the nearest exit was located, or if it would be unlocked. Did he have enough energy? His head was pounding and his body was weak from hunger and dehydration. What did it matter if he didn't get away? At least he could die trying.

He averted his eyes to the left and right, trying to remain calm and not make it obvious that he was devising a plan. He scanned the room for the nearest door. If anything, he could jump from a window and hope that a fire escape would be near for a landing.

The room suddenly grew hot and he reached up, wiping some sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. He didn't want to see the three other poker hands. There was no reason to know.

He gripped the armrests of his chair and stood up, sprinting towards the door that was behind him. He had definitely caught them off guard, but they were quick on their toes and the sound of a crash made Gary's heart skip a beat. The door was right there, but with each step it felt as if it moved farther away. His body screamed out for him to stop but he fought through the pain, gripping the doorknob. It was locked as he expected it to be.

"Get him!" He didn't know who said it, but it made him panic.

He lifted his leg up, kicking the wood. It wouldn't budge and his energy wasn't near strong enough to try again. A sharp pain hit him in the back, like someone kicking him with a steal-toed boot. He collided with the door and slid to the floor, his vision growing black. Another hard, stinging sensation enveloped him. He looked up and saw the men over him. He lifted his arm up and it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds alone.

"Okay, slow down! I don't want to kill him just yet!"

Willitz's words echoed in Gary's head. He scrunched up in a ball to shield as much of himself as he could. Would they finish him off now? He began to remember prayers he was taught as a young child and recited them to himself.

* * *

"I show that those three guys are off duty." The desk sergeant looked up, his gaze tired and annoyed with her asking him these types of questions.

She ran her hands through her hair. "Shoot. Do you have home addresses for them?"

He arched his eyebrow and turned back to the computer monitor. "I don't know what you are up to Brigatti, but…"

"But it doesn't matter. Do you have the addresses or not?"

"Yep. I'll print them out for you." He wheeled his chair backwards and returned, handing her a piece of paper. "Brigatti, saying please wouldn't hurt every now and then."

She snatched the papers out of his hand. "Thank you for doing this. I'll be out." She waved back at him and exited, her fast paced walk turning into a jog as she reached the police cruiser parked on the curb. Snow began to trickle down and the clouds were outlined in silver from the sun setting behind them.

Brigatti took one long glance at the three addresses listed. She wasn't sure if going to their house was such a great idea. Accusing a cop of corruption wasn't exactly flattering and for all she knew these men could get hostile with her. She drank down a long sip of coffee and winced as it singed her lips. Maybe if she stopped by Hobson's place first she could get him to go with her.

She put the Crown Vic in gear and merged onto the street. She hated the fact that she had no plan and was going into this blind, but her gut was telling her something was definitely not right.

The street was slick from a new layer of ice that had gathered on the asphalt. There were already layers of snow and ice that had compacted into a thick sheet of slush that hindered any chance of driving over twenty-five miles per hour. She gripped the steering wheel hard and ran the back of her left hand over the windshield, trying to clear a spot where she could see better. The defroster had barely kicked on and she was in too big of a hurry to sit and wait for it to do its job.

She hadn't noticed it but she was about a block from McGinty's bar. What would be the harm in going to check on Gary? She turned sharply; cutting off a small, compact car that blared its horn at her. Any other time she would have had a sudden twinge of road rage but her mind was so distant that she didn't even really know the car was there.

The bar was crowded when she walked through the entrance and waved off the smoky air from her face. How Gary tolerated this atmosphere was beyond her. She leaned in to talk to the bar tender who took several minutes to get to her. Impatiently, she pushed in front of two customers.

"Is Gary Hobson around?"

The unfamiliar man looked her up and down as he wiped down a spot on a beer mug. "And you are?"

She pulled out her badge, flashing it in front of his face. "Detective Brigatti. I need to speak with him if he's around." She paused. "He's not in trouble."

He put his hand up to his ear. "What?"

"He's not in trouble!" The jukebox was loud and she had to raise her voice higher than she wanted to.

He tilted his head to the side while pouring a shot glass full of whiskey for a man in a suit who should probably be at home with his wife and kids rather than sitting at a bar. "Gary's not in tonight. In fact, I don't even think he's been here all day. Want me to leave him a message?"

Brigatti nodded. "If you see him just tell him that Brigatti came by and that he needs to call me." She turned around and ambled her way through the crowd; thankful to get back out in the winter air she was cursing minutes before.

The wind had begun to pick up and she pulled her hair behind her neck, biting her bottom lip as she studied a tree that whipped in a circular motion, it's branches intertwining with each other. Her instincts were screaming for her to hop in her car and go but she had to be levelheaded and think this out. Gary could be out with friends or something. It was just so unlike Gary to not check on the bar all day. Even she knew that.

* * *

Gary dug his fingertips into the floor, grasping at anything in front of him to prevent the men from dragging him. His nails weren't long but when they grabbed his ankles and tugged at him, he felt sharp pains shoot through as they dug into the hard linoleum. He groaned and kicked but they kept a good grasp on his feet.

"Man, I'm surprised he has this much fight in him. Where you getting your energy from?"

Gary glanced behind himself in time to see Hauser dip down and he flung his leg at him. His shoe hit him right across the face and it was hard enough to send Hauser back against the wall. It was probably a mistake and he would pay for it, but the feel of satisfaction made his adrenaline pump and he noticed the couch beside him. He reached out and took hold of one of the legs, causing Willitz and Allison to fall backwards.

Gary looked up and crawled towards the door, his body shaking from exhaustion and panic. It was just a few feet away yet he still couldn't get there. Something heavy landed on his back, pushing his chest into the floor. He gasped for air and huffed as the feel of someone's hot breath brushed the back of his neck.

"Hobson, you really want a slow and painful death, don't you?" Gary couldn't tell who it was but the stench of the man's body odor made him gag. "Don't you even want to know the outcome of that poker hand?"

Gary tried pushing up but the man outweighed him and his body refused to do much of anything else. He rested his head down on the cold tile of the entryway and closed his eyes. How he wanted to wake up in his loft, buried under the covers, only to be awakened by the damn cat with the newspaper he used to dread so much. And he thought life sucked then.

He lifted his head up, his vision blurry as he blinked to try and clear it. A small area of moisture had formed where his sweat had dripped down. He felt nostalgic for the winter weather taking place outside, and would give anything to be out in it. Anywhere but here.

"Stand up!" Willitz stood above him, the toe of his boot pushing Gary's chin upward. "And don't make me ask you twice you stupid son of a bitch."

Gary pushed his palms below him and fought off the fact that he felt like a ton of bricks were perched on his shoulder. The man who was on top of him had gotten up, and Gary had realized it was Hauser. The blow to Hauser's face had merely given him a busted lip, but that was enough for Gary at the moment.

Darkness clouded his sight as the blood rushed to his head. Vertigo made him lose his balance and he tilted to the side, bracing himself on a wall that was thankfully near him. He felt so nauseous and swallowed bile that had gathered in his throat. His saliva glands kicked in, moistening his mouth, but his tongue went right back to feeling like sandpaper. Knees wobbling, he stepped forward, dread settling in the pit of his stomach like a lead balloon. It was time to find out how he was going to die.

He sat back down in the chair and picked up the five cards in his hand. He had a pair of aces and really didn't care if that was enough to win or not. It didn't matter. His fate was death regardless.

Willitz had trash. Hauser had a pair of tens. So far so good, until Allison revealed his. A pair of fives and a pair of kings. Gary's palms laid flat on the table as the room spun around him. He tried to control it by closing his eyes, but it only made it worse. He felt like he was on a tilt-a-whirl and would be thrown from his seat at any minute.

"Gary? Don't puke again. That shit was nasty!" Hauser smiled from across the table. "Talk about luck. He can't even come out on top with a simple game of cards! And for Allison to win. The worst way to die." Hauser paused, a mischievous smirk erupting on his face. Gary wanted to reach across and hurt him again. "You remember what we said if Allison won, right?"

Gary didn't answer but he remembered. How could he forget? If Allison came out on top they were going to beat him to death. He sunk lower and lower into his chair, praying that God would just take him now and let this be done with. He wasn't even sure how much more his body could take anyway. Hopefully he was already hurt enough that a few more kicks and punches would do the job.

* * *

Brigatti despised snow and smiled to herself at the fact that she still lived in Chicago. For a person that hated the slush so bad she chose a heck of a place to live. Hauser's address was on the south side of the city and it didn't surprise her. She didn't know much about the officer but from her recent observations she could tell he wasn't on the high end of the income totem pole.

The apartment complex was a cliché of what she had seen in the movies about people who lived in the projects. Old cars were parked along the street. Clothes hanged outside of high rise windows to dry even though the snow was falling, defeating the purpose of the drying process. She couldn't help but wonder how many people were living without heating and who of these people needed medical attention for it.

She sludged down the sidewalk, hoping that when people realized she was a cop they wouldn't ambush her, especially since she was a woman and was alone. Maybe she should have brought Armstrong along, but he would just laugh in her face anyway. He had always thought Hobson to be a nuisance.

The entrance to the apartment complex was locked and she looked to her left, seeing a board full of numbers. Her finger traced down the list and she stopped when she came to 245. Brigatti mashed it in with her thumb and heard the low hum and a squeak as someone answered back.

"Who is it?" It was a woman and she sounded much older than Hauser's age.

"Detective Brigatti. Is Officer Hauser around?" She hugged her midsection and swayed from side to side, trying to keep warm as the night air nipped at her neck.

"No, he's not. What do you need him for?" The woman was definitely agitated but Brigatti couldn't tell if she was telling the truth or not.

"Just an investigation he is involved in." She paused and watched two men walk by, their heads covered with hoods and their pants sagged down to their knees. "Do you know when he'll be home?"

"No. He doesn't tell his mother nothin'. Now leave, I'm missing my TV show because of you."

Brigatti stepped off of the front steps, her shoes sinking deep into the snowdrift that had accumulated at the bottom. The water easily soaked her loafer and she grimaced when her socks absorbed the liquid. She looked up and back down at the list of addresses. It was onto the next one, and she hoped that Willitz would be at home and she would find out something… _anything._


	8. Chapter Seven

Gary had never felt the terror that he was experiencing at that moment. The three cops were staring him down, none of them making a move toward him. Maybe part of their torture was to do it mentally. Either way, he wanted to get this over with, even if it meant that death would be the final straw.

His hands were flat on the surface of the table and when he moved his fingers he noticed a trail of moisture on the wood from his clammy palms. Swallowing hard, he couldn't help but think about things that he had left unsaid to his close friends. His poor parents in Indiana. Would they ever truly know what really happened? The cops would definitely make up a story as to why he was dead. And Marissa. He had left McGinty's in a hurry right before his abduction. He had been so short with her lately and hoped that she really knew how much he cared for her. Without Marissa he would have been dead long before this.

The last person he thought of was Brigatti. He'd die without ever knowing if she was a part of this scheme. She was another person he had treated badly but it was necessary. Not letting his guard down with her didn't help in the long run, however. He was still in this situation and would soon be murdered.

"I guess we better get this show on the road." Hauser stood up, rolling his sleeves up over his forearms. Gary had never noticed the tattoo. From what he could tell, it was a devil's face within flames. How perfect.

Gary scooted his chair back but knew that running wouldn't do him any good. Recent events had proven that. He felt like a gerbil stuck in a cage with nowhere to run except in a circle. Hauser wasn't much bigger than he was, but the other two towered over him and outweighed him by about twenty pounds. He could probably take Hauser but it would be pointless, just like every other plan he tried to devise in his head.

"He's not even going to fight back!" Hauser slapped the back of Gary's head with enough force to send his body forward. His head was already throbbing and the light impact of Hauser's open palm accentuated it.

He was still sitting in the kitchen chair; the three of them circling him like a pack of wolves stalking out a deer. His heart raced out of his chest and if the beating that was soon to take place wasn't going to do the job, dying of panic and fear would definitely finish him off.

"Now Gary Hobson. This is what I've been waiting for." Willitz leaned in so close that Gary could feel his hot breath on his neck. He pulled away but Willitz's fingers dug into his cheek, pulling him back to where he was face to face with the man. They were so close that their noses were practically touching.

Sweat dripped from Willit'z hairline and dripped down his cheeks, soaking into his shirt below. Gary on the other hand, was freezing. He still hadn't recovered from being engulfed by ice water from Lake Michigan. His clothes were dry but when the fabric scraped across his skin it felt like small needles were prickling into his skin.

Willitz pulled his gun out, pointing it at Gary. He stared down the barrel, watching the older man's finger curl around the trigger. It didn't phase him. He'd take being shot over being beaten to death any day. He licked his lips and waited. He wasn't going to do anything or make any sudden movements.

"Get up." Willitz gritted his teeth. "Go to the back bedroom."

Gary didn't move. He kept his hands on the table in the same spot and continued to look at the .38 caliber gun in Willitz's grasp. Now was probably not the time to be spiteful, but it was his only line of defense so he had to use it.

"You better obey me, boy!" Willitz's hand shook and the gun went back and forth in front of them, the black metal shining in the light.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" Gary scoffed. "Go ahead. Squeeze the trigger. I got nothing to lose. You are all big talk. But are you a big man? Words are only words."

A gunshot echoed through the kitchen, causing Gary to close his eyes. He didn't feel any pain after the sound subsided, and slowly opened his lids to see that Willitz had shot a hole in the side of a cabinet door. He was relieved and disappointed at the same time. He didn't _want_ to get shot but knew it was the better alternative.

"Pick him up. Take him to the bathroom instead!"

The men tugged at Gary's sweater, pulling him to a standing position. He tried to resist and dug his heels into the floor, but a rug was beneath him and it made him skid across the hard wood and almost fall. Allison grabbed him under the arm, his fingers digging deep into Gary's skin. His grip was tight against Gary's muscles. Still attempting to fight back, they used his sweater as leverage to help pull him. So many times when he was a child he had gotten away from someone in a game of chase by squirming out of his shirt. He ducked his head down and felt the cold air hit him hard when his sweater slipped right over his head. It took the men a second to realize that they had hold of Gary's shirt without him in it and Gary turned back down the hallway, sprinting towards the front door.

His hands didn't seem to want to work and he had forgotten how to do a simple task of unlocking a dead bolt. He turned the lock but they had caught up to him again, only now he was half-naked, his upper half exposed to the night chill that crept through the walls of the cheap apartment insulation.

The next trip down the hallway was a blur. He tried reaching out to anything that came by. Doorways, doorknobs, anything that would cause a hindrance in their attempt to get him to the bathroom. The three men stood strong against Gary and his lack of energy.

The bathroom was bright, causing Gary's pounding headache to grow. He squinted from the reflection of light that cascaded across the room. The bathtub was extremely filthy and remnants of soap scum outlined each piece of tile. They shoved him down into the porcelain, his elbow cracking against the faucet. From all the pain he had dealt with, this seemed minor but it was enough to frustrate him even more. He kicked up towards them hoping that by chance one of them wouldn't back up in time. To his surprise, his shoe impacted Allison's groin, causing him to double over in pain.

"You bastard! You are going to suffer!" Spit spewed from his lips as he reached down and turned the water on, the cold drops feeling like shards of glass on Gary's exposed chest. It practically knocked the breath out of him and he tried gasping for oxygen but water flowed over his face.

His jeans were completely soaked as the tub filled up. Maybe it was a good thing he had lost his sweater back in the hallway. It would have just weighted him down in the water. He tried to push his body upward but their hands kept him plastered down on the smooth surface.

"Turn the water off!" Willitz motioned towards Hauser and diverted his attention back to Gary. His teeth chattered and he shivered under the surface. He wanted to curl up in a ball under mounds of blankets. "Hobson, you are going to learn not to fight back. The harder you fight back, the more shit we are going to put you through."

Gary tried to speak but it came out as a low groan rather than a coherent sentence. He dueled with his own eyelids, struggling to keep them open. If he passed out they would probably leave him alone to drown. Maybe it was a good idea. At least he'd sleep through it.

"Man, his lips are really blue!" Hauser knelt down, splashing at him. Oh, how Gary wanted to return the favor but his body was in so much shock that lifting his arm was like asking him to run a marathon.

He leaned his head back against the tile and stared at the ceiling. Everything was blurry and he was caught off guard when two hands pushed down on him, his body struggling for air again. He pushed back but his face remained under the water. Their palms cupped the back of his head, clamping down on his hair. He opened his eyes and could see the drain. If only he could reach down and release the water, but his body grew limp. Why fight back? If their intention was to kill him let it happen. The sooner the better.

He hadn't realized it, but he was now sitting up. Thankfully the icy water had warmed up some but his body hadn't grown used to it. Again, Willitz, Hauser, and Allison were studying him from above. He wrapped his arms around his waist, the feel of his own skin felt like something foreign to him.

"Get him to the bedroom and warm him up. I'm not done with him just yet." Willitz grinned, his eyes beaming with excitement.

* * *

Brigatti's next stop was Willitz's place, which wasn't too far from Hauser's. She drove up about ten blocks and over six. The neighborhood was more improved, but still not up to good standards. From what she could tell, he was staying in a townhouse. She parked on the curb, her eyes immediately scanning for any suspicious activity. Despite all of her training in the academy and all of her years as an officer, she still grew nervous when working alone.

Her fingers wrapped around the butt of her revolver as she exited the Crown Victoria. There were a few crowds of people down the street, huddled around a trash can fire. Two of the men turned and stared but she ignored them and hoped they would return the favor.

The steps up to his front door had about a two-inch thick layer of ice and the soles of her shoes slid across them and she had to quickly brace herself by grabbing onto the hand rails that were as wobbly as she was. She glanced up at the second story of the home, taking note that all of the lights were out. Feeling discouraged, she went ahead and rang the doorbell. A dog barked on the other side but there was no other movement. Ringing it again, she rubbed her hands together under her cloth gloves, trying to make friction to warm them up.

Still nothing. Too bad she didn't have a search warrant or she'd bust the door down and go in. She had no grounds for a search warrant, however, so she walked back to her car, loving the heater as it warmed up her face, causing her eyes to water. There was only one more stop to make, and hopefully it held the answers needed to figure out exactly what was going on.

* * *

The room where they took Gary was completely empty. There was a small chair in the corner but other than that it was so vacant that every movement echoed against the walls.

He felt a blow from behind and his body fell to the floor. The carpet beneath him had a strong odor of dirt and staleness, which churned his stomach. He lifted his head, trying to alleviate the stench. He gagged and dry heaved and rested back onto the stained fabric.

Willitz stood directly over him, his legs on either side of Gary. He bent over, tapping Gary's cheek with the back of his hand. It was the first time Gary had noticed a ring on his left hand. The cold metal scraped up against his frost bitten skin. The silence was so eerie that Gary wanted to scream out and tell them to get on with it. He had given up on anyone finding him alive.

"You want to say something, Gar?"

Gary squirmed at the sound of Willitz calling him 'Gar.' Only his friends did that. He bit his bottom lip and tried scooting across the floor but his body wouldn't budge. "Stop talking big… and do it… already." His words were short pants and his teeth continued to chatter together. His blue jeans were still soaked and sticking to his legs, making it impossible to get warm. He wished he could have his sweater back, but none of them had offered.

"Put him in the chair." Willitz commanded his two followers and stepped back. Gary wondered if he ever did anything for himself. He was a cliché bad guy, straight from the movies.

Hauser picked Gary's arms up and dragged him across the carpet as fast as he could, his skin scorching from the instant burn caused by the fabric beneath him. He let out a loud groan. He had endured minor carpet burns before, but not one that covered an area the size of his back. He winced and lay stiff as they fought to get him into a sitting position in the chair.

"Work with us, Gary." But he didn't. He closed his eyes and began to think up more prayers from his childhood. Curling up in a ball, he didn't even flinch when a hard strike collided with his stomach. He had endured so much pain that he felt numb. Numb to physical contact. Numb to emotional turmoil. All of it. The only thing he prayed for was to be dead. For this to be over.

Before he knew it he was sitting up in the wooden chair and his arms were tied behind the backrest. The rope dug deep into his wrists and his hands were asleep. Again, they were studying him like a science project.

"Thought we lost you there for a minute, Gar. You went to sleep on us again."

Gary kicked his leg out but it barely lifted off of the floor. He glared at Willitz and gritted his teeth. "Stop calling me Gar." His voice was gruff and low and his throat sore.

"Or what? You'll hurt me?" Willitz ambled towards him and balled his fist, hitting Gary across the face. His head went backward and smacked into the wall behind him, causing stars to flood his vision. A metallic taste engulfed his mouth, like he had just bit down on a penny. He spit some of the liquid out and the drops soaked into his already waterlogged pants.

"I'm surprised you did that yourself, Willitz." Gary eyed him, his worry about the consequences of his actions gone from his mind. "You seem to not ever want to get your hands dirty."

"You son of a bitch!" Willitz pulled his gun from his hip holster, twirling it in his hand. If he was doing it to intimidate Gary, it wasn't working. He would plead for him to pull the trigger but didn't say anything. "I'm going to kill him right now!" He gripped the barrel of the gun, exposing the handle of the semi automatic. A loud clack echoed in the room and an extremely sharp pain singed through Gary's chest. Repeatedly, Willitz hacked at him, the butt of the gun slamming hard into his midsection.

Gary was in a very vulnerable position. He couldn't scrunch up to guard himself from the heavy blows. His back arched and his hips thrust upward. Willitz showed no sign of slowing down and Gary yelled out in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back, hoping that this would all be over soon.

* * *

Brigatti stared at the entrance of her last stop. It too, was a townhouse. The only thing different was that there were lights on. Someone was home, and hopefully it wasn't Allison's mother. She shut the door of the cruiser as lightly as she could, her gun down at her side as she walked to the door.

Lifting her hand to knock, she hesitated. Her instincts screamed at her to back step away and get backup. It was different than her first two stops. She had just called Hauser's apartment, and the lights were all off at Willitz's place. She got back in the car and grabbed her radio, queuing the radio. "Central, I need some help here. I'm on the corner of fifty-third and Broadway." Hopefully she wasn't making a mistake at calling out the troops but she knew her gut was telling her to and her instincts normally didn't fail her.

"10-4 Brigatti, we'll send units your way."

"10-4. Have them respond code one, with no lights or sirens."

She leaned her head back against the headrest and tried to see if she could make anything out of the shadows that cascaded through the front curtains. It was too disheveled but there was definitely more than one person within the residence.

There were headlights in her rear view mirror and she was thankful to see Armstrong pull up. She walked to his window before he got out and leaned in. "I'm happy to see they sent you."

He shook his head. "I heard your call on the radio. You realize this is Officer Allison's place right?" He paused and spoke up again before she could answer. "There's an ongoing investigation with him. Does this have something to do with that? We've got a stakeout that was supposed to begin tomorrow. Going to keep all eyes on this place."

Brigatti's stomach tightened. "I guess we got here early. And uhh…" She stopped and looked down at her shoes. "I think Hobson is involved. But as an innocent bystander."

Armstrong slammed his hands down on the steering wheel. "Why did you call for backup, Brigatti? What's going on?"

"I was going to see if Allison was home so I could talk to him but something told me to call you guys. It just doesn't feel right."

Armstrong scoffed and pulled on the door handle. "Nothing ever feels right when Hobson is involved."

"Let's just go knock and see if anything is going on. Where's the harm in that?" She walked back to the door with Armstrong behind her. Another police unit had shown up but remained parked with the two officers inside. She tilted her head and tapped her knuckles against the wood. Thankfully there were footsteps and in a matter of seconds Allison had opened the threshold.

"Brigatti? Armstrong? What brings you here?" His facial expression was surprised but Brigatti didn't want to read too much into it.

"Can we come in?" She leaned in but he pulled the door shut to where she couldn't get a good view inside. "It'll just take a few seconds. I wanted to clear something up on that report about Hobson assaulting Hauser."

Allison looked behind him and back out, his eyebrow arching. "No, now's a bad time." His voice was uncharacteristically loud and it sent an alarm off inside Brigatti. He was trying to warn someone inside. "You need to go Brigatti!" There was a commotion and she and Armstrong pushed through as Allison raced down a long hallway. They followed, guns drawn.

"You have no right to come in my house! I didn't invite you!" Allison stood in front of a door. "Get out!"

Armstrong held his gun on Allison. "You open that door or I'll break you in half. We've got probable cause to be in here with you acting the way you are." Allison didn't move and Armstrong clicked the hammer back on his .45. "Open it. NOW!"

Allison slowly turned the knob and Brigatti kicked through, seeing Gary passed out in a chair. The window to his left was open, the curtains blowing in the wind. She turned back to Armstrong who had Allison in custody.

"Looks to have accomplices." She wanted to interrogate Allison right there and then but she turned to Gary, untying his arms as his body sunk down lower and finally fell to the floor. "Call for an ambulance! And get everyone alerted that some of the suspects are still at large."


	9. Chapter Eight

"Hobson? Hobson!" At first the voice was distant, like at the end of a long tunnel that he seemed to be stuck in the middle of. It echoed through his mind and the sound was familiar to him, but he couldn't make out who it was.

His eyelids were heavy as he fought to open them fully. The outline of someone stood over him but his vision was cloudy so the face was unrecognizable. Did he really want to wake up? He wasn't sure, but the bright light that cascaded over him made his head hurt worse than it had before. He tried reaching up to shield himself from the vivacity but realized his arms were restrained behind him.

"Hobson, are you awake?" There was the same voice again. He blinked and licked his lips, his tongue like sandpaper on his lips. Who was it? Squinting, he saw shoulder length black hair. A dark coat. A badge hanging from the woman's neck. _Brigatti._

He panicked and tried pushing the chair backward and away from her, but he couldn't muster up enough energy to wake up, much less get away. The rope that was tied around his wrists and ankles had rubbed raw areas and the more he moved the more he could feel warm liquid drip from the friction against his skin.

"Calm down, it's me, Brigatti!" He felt her hands on him and gasped. The feel of human contact sent a shiver down his spine. "Get him a blanket or something. There's no telling how long his upper half has been exposed to the cold air." Gary wasn't sure who she was talking to. "Hobson, I'm here to help you."

He tried to speak but his vocal chords produced no sound. His throat felt dry and cracked like the floor of a rain hungry desert. Relief overtook him when the ropes were loosened and his arms brought back in front of him. Blood began to flow through his veins again, awakening his limbs after being asleep for who knew how long.

"What do you want… from me?" It was hard to catch his breath and he didn't know why. Looking around the room, there was no sign of Hauser, Willitz, or Allison. What did she do with them? Was it her turn to torture him and leave him for dead? Or was she really here to help and the three of them were taken care of? He didn't know and wanted to get away from her as soon as he could. It was almost impossible, though. He could picture himself getting to a standing position, but his brain could not control his body.

"I want to help you. There's an ambulance on the way." She paused and grabbed a jacket from Armstrong. "I'm going to set this on top of you." The warm leather engulfed him and he settled in the warmth that now covered his naked chest. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

Gary's closed his eyes again. The pain seemed to subside when it was dark and he was so tired that he couldn't fight it anymore. Brigatti's voice grew distant again, like it was floating above him. At this point he didn't care if she was in on the dirty cop's plan or if she really was a good guy. At least he'd be unconscious if she tried anything.

He slouched forward, his mind drifting into oblivion.

* * *

Brigatti paced back and forth in the emergency room waiting area, a styro-foam cup of coffee in one hand. It had gotten cold and she tossed it as she ran her free hand through her hair. So many questions were running through her mind, things that hopefully Gary could answer when the time was right. Or if he made it through. He didn't look well. The fact that the doctors were taking so long to get back to her made her that much more impatient.

His reaction to her being at the scene made it apparent that trust was definitely an issue between them. He was genuinely scared when he realized it was her. It made her stomach tie up in knots at the fear she saw in his eye. She hated herself for allowing this to get so far out of hand. She should have listened to him from the moment he came to her office, but she couldn't relive the past. She needed to focus on what was in front of her, and that was getting Hobson's trust back with her, even if it took forever.

"Detective Brigatti?" She looked up to see a doctor in a long white coat walking towards her. Swallowing hard, she met him half way, bracing herself for whatever news he had for her. "Have you contacted the family?"

She had called his parents when they had gotten to the hospital but there was no answer at their house, so she had left a message. Marissa thankfully was easy to get hold of, and she would get to the hospital as soon as she could.

"Yes. His mom and dad are out of town a lot but I did leave a message."

The doctor nodded. "I really don't know if I can give out information to people other than his family." He ran his fingers through what she assumed was Hobson's chart.

"I'm not family but if Gary were awake he'd give you permission. I'm a detective working a case that involves his attackers. It's needed to help him." She wasn't so sure if Hobson would allow his information released to her now that he didn't trust her, but the doctor didn't need to know that.

"Since you are a police officer I'm sure we can work around the legalities." He paused. "Hobson sustained some hypothermia. We aren't sure how long he had been exposed to the winter weather, but thankfully we think he has regained feeling in the areas that were affected. It was mainly his feet and legs. He's also got a skull fracture. It's pretty severe and he's in a lot of pain from it. There's also some internal bleeding in his chest. There's some bruising and cuts on him from the attack. He's out of it right now from the pain medication but you can go in and visit him." He paused and shifted a clipboard to his other hand, moving out of the way for a gurney to pass by. "Since he sustained a head injury the normal practice would be to keep him awake, but since he had other intense problems we are closely monitoring the fracture despite the fact that he's unconscious. With proper medication it's keeping the pressure down."

Brigatti nodded. "Thank you." She felt like she was floating as she walked behind the curtain of his ICU bed. He was asleep; his body wrapped up in several layers of blankets. There were a few pieces of gauze wrapped around his head and several IV's and monitors hooked up to him.

His lips were a faint purple. She recalled when she had first found him and how the color seemed much darker. At least he looked somewhat better, but nowhere near one hundred percent. His face was bruised up and his forehead had a four-inch gash across the middle of it that had been stitched. She reached down and grabbed his hand but there was no response back.

"Hobson, its Brigatti." She felt a little awkward speaking to him, almost as if she were talking to herself. "I called Marissa. She should be here any minute. I hope you can hear me. I just want you to know…" She turned to the monitor when it beeped even though she had no clue what it meant. She was finding that apologizing to him was no easy task. "I… uhh… I want you to know that you have every right to doubt me. But I'm on your side."

His eyelids opened slightly, but not enough for her to see his pupils under them. His head moved on the pillow and his lips parted, but only a low groan escaped. He winced and put his left hand to his temple, frowning from the discomfort. His brow creased and he took in a deep sigh, only to settle back down in the mound of bedding upon him.

"Shh. Stay asleep. You need your rest." She barely noticed Marissa standing behind her and wondered how long she had been there. "Hello Marissa."

"Detective." Marissa ducked her head, making a full entry behind the curtain. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

"Of course not. He's still asleep. I thought he was going to wake up for a minute but he dozed back off." Brigatti turned back to Hobson as guilt fell heavy in her chest. She could have prevented every bit of this. In her eyes, she was the reason he was lying in that hospital bed. "I'll leave you alone with him." She pushed through the ugly green fabric that separated Gary from the rest of the people in critical condition like he was.

Her mind could only think of one thing at the moment, and that was catching the two dirty cops that barely escaped. They had to be in custody before Gary woke up and especially before they found out he was still alive.

* * *

Pain. It was the first thing he noticed when he opened his eyelids. His head felt like his heart was inside of it from the constant thump that only hurt more with each beat. He grimaced and put his hand to his brow, feeling no slack in some chords that were connected to the back of his hand. Shifting his weight, he tried to gain some leeway in the tubes, making his body scream from inside of him.

At first he couldn't figure out where he was. It was as if he had woken up from a bad dream, only this wasn't his loft and he was enduring discomfort like he had never experienced before. He licked his lips but his tongue felt pasty and dry, and the walls of his mouth tasted stale. Turning his head to the left, he noticed a small styro-foam cup on a table by his bedside. He lifted his arm and let out a low groan. The weight of the covers over him made it feel like someone was lying on top of him, so he tried to kick some off.

"No, don't do that." A heavyset nurse in her mid fifties appeared from behind the curtain, her gold rim reading glasses low on the bridge of her nose. "You want to keep those blankets on."

Gary wanted to speak up and say that he was hot and sweaty but she tucked the fabric under his legs and midsection, wrapping him up as if he were in a cocoon. Thankfully, she kept his arms free and he finally mustered up enough energy to reach for the water, gulping down the icy liquid that flowed down to his stomach. It accentuated his headache but he didn't care, his body felt like it couldn't take in enough of the water.

"It's good to see you awake, Gary. My name is Margie. Can you tell me how you are feeling?" She ran a metal device with a pad on the end of it over his forehead and around his jaw and his gut reaction was to pull away. "I'm just taking your temperature. We are trying to get you back up into the ninety eight degree range again."

Gary frowned and watched her check the IV's in his hand and something on his chest. He still hadn't answered her question and frankly, wanted some of his own questions answered.

"Where am I at?" He coughed to clear his throat, the raspy feeling catching him off guard.

"You are at Northwestern Medical." She jotted something down in his chart. "Can you tell me how you are feeling, Gary? You don't mind me calling you Gary, right?"

He shook his head no and ran his hand over his face. The beeping of a monitor adjacent to him made him nervous, and he averted his eyes toward it. He wasn't one for medical jargon. "My head is really hurting. I uhh…" He closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable but with a hospital bed it was next to impossible. Licking his lips, he opened his lids to see her in the same spot she was before, her stare patient. "I've never felt a headache like this." He pulled a cover up to his mouth. "The light is really making it worse."

She flipped through some pages and nodded to herself. "You are up for another dose of morphine. The last bit made you groggy and you've been sleeping most of the day. Do you want more?"

He didn't care about being groggy and sleeping, he just didn't want to feel like this anymore. He felt like he was complaining too much, but she did ask. "Can you take some of these blankets off? I'm really hot."

"I'll have to ask your doctor when he does his rounds. Right now my order is to keep them on you." She injected a long needle into a port and pushed down on the syringe. "You have had a few visitors, but you slept right through them."

An instant feeling of euphoria overtook him and the outline of Margie grew faint and blurry. The soreness was still there, but the medicine took the edge off of it. He closed his eyes, almost disregarding her comment about people coming to see him. "Who… were they?"

"There were two women. I didn't ask their names, but they both seemed quite concerned."

Two women? He couldn't think of two women he knew for the life of him. He yawned and covered his mouth, stretching his legs out beneath him, which was a complete mistake. A sharp twinge coursed through him and he let out a moan. Gritting his teeth, his memory searched for two women. _Brigatti and Marissa._ The fact that Marissa had come to visit him was no surprise, but Brigatti made him grow nauseous, and his stomach contracted. He reached for anything to catch what was coming up into his mouth, and his nurse was quick and held out a plastic bedpan. He retched and the water he had just drank shot out of his mouth and nose, still cold from minutes before.

Leaning back into his pillow, he felt his face warm up when he saw Margie standing over him, the bedpan still in her grasp. "Did that make you feel better?"

He shook his head no and gagged one more time. He just wanted the morphine to fully kick in so he could go back to sleep and not worry about anything. She again, was inserting a needle into a port. "I'm going to give you a dose of phenergan to help with your queasiness. That's expected with your injuries."

That was the last thing Gary heard, and he drifted off into a deep rest.

* * *

"Where are your buddies?" Brigatti sat down in front of Allison, skidding the metal chair across the tiles. The interrogation process of an investigation seemed to be one of her favorite times. The fact that it was a fellow cop under suspicion, however, made her sick to her stomach. They busted their butts to be able to have the honor to wear the badge, and to take advantage of something so sacred was like spitting in the face of every authority figure in Chicago.

Allison folded his arms over his chest, smirking. "I want a lawyer. I know my rights!" He prodded his index finger into the surface of the table.

"The rights you so clearly trampled on. How could you do it? Hurt an innocent civilian? And why?" She leaned in close enough to him that their noses were practically touching. "I was never one to rat out other cops. I guess you could call me naïve for thinking that we were all good guys. You have no idea that you just gave all of us a bad name."

"I'm not saying nothing! Get me a lawyer! Now!"

Brigatti turned to Armstrong, a smirk erupting on her lips as she let out an annoyed laugh. "You know they are guilty when they lawyer up right away. That's fine. We have you at the scene where Hobson was found. He was at _your_ house. Found almost beaten to death. We don't need Hauser or Willitz. You can take the complete fall. That's fine. A first year law student can put you away for a long time. Just think of how life inside the jail will be. Those inmates find out you were a cop they'll eat you for lunch."

Allison tilted his head to the side. "I know this game, Brigatti. Call. The. Lawyer."

Brigatti bit her bottom lip, her patience wearing thin with him. She motioned towards Armstrong and they both left the room, slamming the door behind them. She put her hands on her hips and paced back and forth, staring through the observation window and back into the interrogation room. "Damnit, we really need him to turn in the other two. He'll break if we keep at him. That last bit about him taking the fall caught his attention."

Armstrong shook his head no. "Brigatti, just lay off for a little bit. Give him some space, give him time to take this all in and think about it. Everything's happening so fast. He might still not realize the mess he's in."

Brigatti arched her eyebrow, staring back at the man that usually was all for going for the gut in situations like this. She leaned against the glass, taking in a deep sigh. She couldn't screw this up, she owed Gary that much.


	10. Chapter Nine

Brigatti was leery to go to the hospital. She had lost track of the days since she was hip deep in her investigation and was nervous since Gary was probably more alert than the first time she had went to visit him. He was still in ICU so there were visiting hours she had to adhere to and hoped that he'd soon be able to move to the floor. At least he would have more privacy that way.

She smoothed her hair over with her hands, nodded at his nurse who sat on the outside of the curtain, and pushed through the green fabric that was his only separation from the hustle and bustle of the staff of the hospital. Gary was awake, his eyes staring up at the ceiling tiles above. He didn't hear her at first and she coughed to get his attention, and he quickly turned and looked at her. It was hard to read his reaction but his stare was enough to let her know that he was confused.

"Hobson? Hey, how you doing?" She didn't sit down and stood at the foot of the bed, waiting on an invite from him before doing anything else.

He scratched his temple and shifted his weight, scowling. "Brigatti." His voice didn't sound normal, almost like he was sick. "What're you doing here?"

She folded her arms over her chest. "I thought you might like to know how things are going with your kidnappers."

"My kidnappers?" He arched his eyebrow.

"Yeah. The people that did this to you." She eyed the chair at his bedside and hesitated, but went ahead and sat down. He didn't object but looked uneasy. "Do you not remember what happened?"

Hobson's eyes moved back to the ceiling. His lids slowly closed and fluttered back open, the whites of his irises bloodshot, the bags under his eyes black up against his pale skin. He looked exhausted and she was half tempted to just stand up and leave, but she didn't move. It was going to be tough for him to testify if his memory failed him. She wasn't even sure if he wanted to anyhow. He wouldn't be the first victim that didn't want to show their face in court.

"I remember some of it. Some is so… vague." Hobson fidgeted with the pulseoximeter on his index finger, pulling some of the tape off of the edge of it. She knew how uncomfortable those were and she never had to wear one constantly.

"Do you remember what they looked like?" She had no intention of coming here to question him, but it just happened without her even meaning it to. "I'm sorry Hobson, if you aren't up for this I can leave. It might take you awhile to get your full memory back anyway." So bad did she want to ask if he still thought she was a bad guy, but her mouth wouldn't move.

"It's fine. I just…" He trailed off as he gritted his teeth. "I'm so…" Burying his head down in his pillow, he dozed off for a moment, his body jerking as he woke back up. "Brigatti, you aren't here to hurt me, are you?" His words came out in short pants. His pain medication must have been wearing off.

Hobson's question made her feel like someone had punched her in the stomach. She literally had to brace herself. But he had every right to question her, and she hated herself for allowing that to happen. He was a trusted informant she had used several times for other cases, and though his reasoning could sometimes be odd as to how he had gotten tips, he had never failed her.

"Gary, of course not. I'm trying to help you. I'm searching high and low for them, and I'll make sure nothing else happens to you." Calling him Gary made her sound so foreign to her own ears.

His head lifted off of the pillow, now fully awake again. "Catch them? You mean you haven't…" The bad news sunk in and he went silent, his brow creased with worry.

"We are close to getting them. You are safe."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, pulling the covers up around his face. "I'm pretty tired…" He yawned. "I'm sorry," he whispered as his body settled in under the sheets.

She smiled and stood up, grabbing her purse. "It's okay, Gary. Get your rest. In the meantime, we'll find them." She was sure he didn't hear her, he was already sound asleep when she made her exit.

* * *

"_Time to die, Gary."_

Gary's eyes jolted open and his body jerked upward and the pain that engulfed him literally knocked the breath from his chest. He gripped the sides of his bed and his heart skipped a beat when he saw an outline of someone standing over his bed. Pulling away, he looked to his left to see Chuck standing over him.

"You okay Gar? You were having a bad dream."

Gary's was in shock at the sight of one of his best friends that he hadn't seen in well over a year. Who had called him and why did he take the time away from his busy life back in California for him? He licked his lips and shifted his weight, reaching for a cup of water on his bedside table. He nearly knocked it over and Chuck reached quickly to save it from toppling over.

"How you feeling buddy?" Gary never could tell when Chuck was being generous or just asking the question in general. A year apart still made him apprehensive to the guy.

"Am I really in that bad of shape?" Gary sipped a little of the water, cringing at the flavor. Chicago tap water, just what he wanted. He slid the cup across the smooth surface, the scrape of the styro-foam loud enough to squeak.

Chuck arched an eyebrow and sat down hard in the wooden chair adjacent to Gary. "You made national news, Gar. Going up against the Chicago Police Department will do that to you, I suppose. And Marissa also called me. Said I should get down here. I had a lot of vacation saved up and was planning on coming anyway, but you being hurt like this made it final for me."

Gary's stomach tightened. So now he was sure his parents had heard of this whole thing and were probably on their way as well. He closed his eyes and swallowed back what little saliva he had in the back of his throat. "Did they catch the guys yet?" He opened his eyes again, hoping that Chuck would give something away in his body language, but Chuck stared up at the TV. An old rerun of a Cubs game was on.

"I don't think so, but there are some detectives on the case." He paused and clicked through several of the channels. "Thank goodness you are out of ICU now. No TV's in there. They put you out on the floor yesterday when I got in. I don't know how you slept so hard with how loud it was."

Gary bit his bottom lip and felt for the bed remote, lifting the angle higher to where he was sitting up better. From what he could remember before, sitting up for any amount of time would kill him and it actually felt good to divert his body into an upward position.

"Lots and lots of morphine." Gary had smiled for the first time in awhile, but his mind still raced with the idea that the culprits were still on the loose. Then it hit him. The newspaper. Was it still being delivered to his loft? What if it was dropped off there and someone had picked it up?

Chuck must have read his mind. "You gotten the paper any lately?"

Gary shook his head. "No, not that I know of. Do you mind going to my loft when you get a chance and checking? Maybe it'll give us some hints on where these guys are."

"Sure thing, Gar. You still stuck on not letting me get a first hand look at the stocks and lotto?"

Gary rolled his eyes and pulled a pillow over his face. "Some things never change." Again, Chuck had gotten him to smile.

* * *

Brigatti was exhausted. She had been up for several days, searching for any clues as to where the two other men could be. Allison was being held at the county jail, still refusing to give up Willitz and Hauser. She wanted to go beat it out of him, but the last thing she needed was police brutality and they get off on a technicality.

She thumbed the manila folder; her vision growing blurry as she stared down at the small font from the many reports she had to write.

"Brigatti, you got a minute?" The sound of Armstrong's voice scared her, and she let out a small yelp.

"Jeez, Armstrong, don't do that again! It's late in the evening! I thought I was the only one here."

He stood back, staring at her for a moment. She grew uncomfortable and glared at him. Motioning her hand toward him, she waited.

"You need to go home and get some rest, Brigatti. Besides, the news I'm about to give you might take some stress off of you." He paused and sat across from her. "I think Allison is on the brink of giving them up. He's in major distress, being locked up in county and all. The chances of a person in there recognizing him are greater than being put somewhere else."

Brigatti traced the lip of her coffee mug with her index finger, allowing for Armstrong's words to soak in. "Shouldn't we go pressure him? If he's under stress he's bound to give something up even if he's not trying to."

Armstrong leaned back in his chair. "Brigatti, right now you need to go home and get some rest. If I know Willitz and Hauser, they haven't fled Chicago. And Allison, he's not going anywhere. You look like hell."

"What if one of the guys inside recognizes him and hurts him? You just said yourself that he's got a good chance of being recognized. Without his account we might never get the other two."

"I'll request he gets put in a cell by himself. We'll get to him first thing in the morning." Armstrong sifted through a stack of paperwork on her desk. Frowning, he looked back up at her. "You know we gotta be patient. Take our time, you know how the bad guys normally crack under pressure."

Brigatti shook her head and clicked her pen closed, folding her arms over her chest. "I just want to…" She trailed off, not sure why she was confiding in him about this. "I just want to make sure Hobson is safe."

"You need to think about getting some rest before you mess things up from sleep deprivation. Hobson will be okay." Armstrong stood up and put his suit jacket on, giving her a reassuring smile that settled her nerves a bit. "I'll see you in the morning, and you better not be dressed in the same clothes."

She smirked and nodded his way, contemplating his comment about Gary as he shut the door behind him. Why was she caring so much? Any other investigation she would not be pushing things so hard. That's what she had learned over the years. Take your time. Be thorough and consistent. Check every detail. Be patient with the suspects, they are never as smart as they try and come off to be, even if they are cops themselves.

Hobson was a person with feelings, just like anyone else, and she had never stopped to think twice about it until this situation. So many times he had come barging into the building, pleading with whoever would listen to his desperate attempts at getting them to stop a robbery, kidnapping, fight, or any other crime. She had viewed him as a nuisance, and nothing more, and when she saw him lying in the hospital bed in so much pain it had hit her hard. That's why she wanted to get all three of them behind bars, to prove to Hobson that she was on his side and would never do anything to hurt him.

Taking a long, hard glance at the report in front of her, she closed the notebook and filed it in her bottom desk drawer. Armstrong was right. How could she give a good attempt at this without some sleep? Even if it was hard to come by from her racing thoughts, at least she could take a hot bath and try to relax inside her own four walls.

* * *

"Gar, I didn't see any newspapers on your doorstep. You think that maybe one of your bartenders has been gathering them up for you?" Chuck entered his hospital room without even knocking, and Gary was glad the nurse wasn't in performing one of her checkups that didn't expose his good side.

Marissa was also there and her face brightened up at Chuck's presence. Though she wouldn't admit it, Gary knew that she liked Chuck. They could argue like cats and dogs but would help each other whenever needed.

"No Chuck, I don't think it's being delivered. I'm sure they would have told Marissa about it, anyway." He clicked the TV off. "It's really nice that you two stopped by. Just don't feel obligated to stay. Chuck, you should be enjoying your vacation."

Chuck waved his hand in front of him. "Oh please Gary. When I come to Chicago I want to do two things. Go to a Cubs game, and since it's not baseball season that's not an option, and I want to see you guys." He sat down hard on the window seat, his fingers pushing through the blinds. "Jeez, it's really like old times with the three of us together again."

Gary suddenly felt nostalgic for the past; thinking about how the paper never used to get him into the bind it did just recently. It was going to take some time for him to get back in the routine of saving people, especially high profile articles like the one he had encountered. The only problem was that the article had started out as something minor and vague about a citizen of Chicago being beaten in an alley. Not one mention of police.

"Hello Gary. I see you got some company today." Dr. Garrison walked in, clipboard in hand. Gary wasn't sure how to take the guy. He was in his mid fifties but seemed to be so moody about things. He had always been nice to Gary, but to his nurses he could be cold and standoffish. Gary kept his conversations to a minimum with him, only answering the questions sent his way. "What do you say you bust out of this joint?"

Gary's stomach filled with butterflies. He thought he'd never hear anyone mention anything about discharging him. "That sounds good, Doc. When do you think I'll get to go home?"

"I'm thinking tomorrow afternoon. Going to keep you one more night for some observation. Your hypothermia improved quickly. Your body temperature is staying steady around ninety-eight. Your scans show that your skull fracture is healing up fast. Everything else is looking sharp. How are you feeling, and be honest, don't just say okay because you want to go home?"

Gary scratched his chin and gave a nervous laugh. "I have to say I'm feeling good. My body is sore from being in this bed for so long. I get small headaches sometimes."

"Are you cold or warm?"

"I'm comfortable. At night I have to kick the covers off."

Dr. Garrison nodded and jotted a few notes down. "Okay. I'll send a physical therapist in here to get you up and walking some. We'll see how you handle that. By the looks of things, you should be out of here no later than tomorrow evening. I'll leave you back to your guests."

"Thanks, Doc." Gary sighed and closed his eyes. Finally. He wasn't sure how much more hospital food he could take.

"Gary, my name is Patricia, are you up for some exercises?" The physical therapist was a short woman but pretty stout, probably from having to lift a number of patients to and from their beds. She had a warm and caring smile. "I hear you might be leaving us."

Gary grinned back at her, and looked side to side at Chuck and Marissa. "Yes ma'am."

"That's too bad. I think you were really starting to grow on some of the nurses." She looked back up. "Did you want your friends to leave? All we are going to do is have you walk up and down the hall a few times and sit up in a chair."

Gary shook his head no. "They can stay if they want, I don't mind."

"Gary, I'm going to go back to McGinty's and check on a few things. I'll come back this evening." Marissa squeezed his hand.

"Thanks Marissa, I'll see you later." He slung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing the pair of sweats on the table. Struggling at first, he finally got his legs through the holes but it took him a moment to catch his breath. Funny how being in a bed for as long as he had been could make him feel so out of shape.

"Okay, I'm going to stand beside you as you stand up. You might feel a little dizzy at first so take your time."

Gary bit his bottom lip and stuck his tongue out, finding that maneuvering his body wasn't as simple as he had hoped. His muscles were stiff and his joints crackled when he finally stood tall. She was right about being dizzy, and he braced himself on the sink counter to overcome the vertigo. A small twinge of nausea hit his gut and he fought it off, pushing off of the porcelain.

"You ready to take the long walk down these hallways?" He felt Patricia's hand on his elbow and glanced back at Chuck who was still sitting in the window seat.

"I'll wait here, Gar." He grabbed the remote from the bed.

Gary turned back to Patricia, his strides not near as long as he was used to. Thankfully, the hallway wasn't busy. Only a few nurses and doctors passed as he ambled what seemed like ten miles. His legs were tight and a small burning sensation shot through his hamstrings and calves. He tried to mask the discomfort but wasn't doing too good of a job.

When they headed back to his room he felt discouraged that he had probably only walked about five hundred feet. It wasn't that he was in much pain, it was getting his body used to not being in a flat position.

Maybe after a few more times it would get back to normal. Patricia guided him to a recliner in the corner of the room and he let out a low groan as he settled down into the cushion. It was hard to catch his breath at first and he had to lean his head back and close his eyes to gain his composure.

"Dr. Garrison isn't going to let me go home, is he?" His voice was shaky and he was afraid to look up at Patricia's face.

"What makes you say that? You did really well. We don't expect you to run a marathon your first time out of bed." She tossed him a pillow. "Stay sitting up for a little bit and I'll be back for round two. Don't be so hard on yourself."

He rested his hands down into the plain white pillowcase. "Thanks."


	11. Chapter Ten

"Allison, you know how this works. If you give up Willitz and Hauser your sentence won't be near as harsh. Whereas, if you take the fall for the entire thing, you will be put away for a lot longer. What's it gonna be?" Brigatti paced back and forth in front of him in the jail cell. It was evident that Allison hadn't slept well and was on the verge of cracking, she was just hoping she could get him to confess quicker before the other two culprits found out Gary was still alive.

Allison ran his fingertip over his lips and sat back in his chair. Brigatti wasn't sure, but he looked to have a dark circle under his left eye and what looked like a black eye. "They treating you good in here?" She arched her eyebrow.

He nodded but said nothing. His demeanor was so different from the day they had caught him. He wasn't near as cocky as he'd been. Something had changed, and it was more than likely the realization he had come to terms with while locked up. There was no getting away from the future that was ahead of him, and Brigatti was glad that he knew.

"I'm pretty tired, Detective. I can't sleep in this damn place." His voice was raspy and his eyes sank low to the table, but Brigatti didn't feel any bit of remorse for the piece of dirt in front of her. They were beyond what he wanted.

"I'm afraid that there's more sleepless nights to come for you, especially if you don't cooperate with us."

Allison swallowed and traced his fingernail over some initials that were scraped into the mortar on the wall beside him. "Come back later, I'll talk then." He lay down on the bed, pulling the gray blanket up around him. Brigatti stood up and smoothed her skirt down. So bad did she want to lash into him and get what she wanted at that moment, but reluctantly turned to the door and tapped on the metal to get the guard's attention. The harder she was on him the more he'd clam up, so patience was important.

She nodded at the guard and pulled her coat tightly to her body. Armstrong was waiting outside. "Still nothing?"

"Not a thing. He said to come back later. We'll see then."

"Well, I've got some good news. Hobson was discharged."

Brigatti felt mixed emotions. She was glad that he had gotten better, especially with the extent of his injuries but that meant that he was now in harm's way again. At the hospital he had good security outside of his room and now he was exposed again.

"Armstrong, where is he staying?" She tried to keep her voice calm but it came out shakier than she had anticipated.

"I think Marissa and Chuck took him back to his loft at McGinty's."

"We need to get an unmarked police car over there. If Hauser and Willitz find out he's alive and out of the hospital they might come for him."

* * *

Gary sank low into the cushions on his couch, taking in a deep breath as he stared up at his ceiling. There were days that he hated his loft. He was almost ashamed to admit that it took an event such as this to make him appreciate what he did have. He turned his face to the back cushion, burying it into the fibers. Remnants of cologne and fabric softener overtook his senses. The scent was faint, but enough for him to notice that it didn't have the lingering smell like the hospital did.

"You going to sleep Gar? What a host you are!" Chuck pushed on his leg and sat down across from him on the coffee table. "Here I am on vacation to see you and you doze off on me!"

Gary sat up, wincing from a dull ache in his lower back. "I'm sorry, Chuck. I'm just sort of taking it all in."

Chuck held his hand up, smirking. "I'm just joking, buddy. Go to sleep if you need it."

Gary's eyelids felt heavy, but he fought through it. "Nah man, that's all I've been doing for the past week. I think I'm so tired from getting too much sleep, if that's possible." He ran his hand through his hair and looked back up above him. The knock on the door sent him out of his daze, causing him to jerk up from the couch.

"Jeez Gary, you a bit jumpy?" Chuck smiled and walked to the door, peering through the peephole. "It's Brigatti and Armstrong, shall I let them in?"

Gary glared at him and instantly wondered what they were doing here. Hopefully they'd have good news, but his gut reaction told him otherwise. He still wasn't fully sure about Brigatti and who's side she was on. He hated that he developed a trust issue with her, but now he felt that way about the entire Chicago Police Department. Now he really had no one for protection.

"Yeah, let them in." Gary sat on the edge of the couch, bracing himself. His pulse quickened at the sight of Brigatti in his entryway and he wiped his palms down the side of his sweat pants to get the clammy feeling off of them. "Brigatti, Armstrong." He nodded at them, but didn't return Armstrong's offer at a handshake.

Armstrong pulled his hand back and Gary felt a sudden twinge of guilt, but that feeling faded when he read their body language. It was evident they weren't here to kick back and visit. He said nothing and leaned back on the couch. After everything he had been through, what was more bad news? He was getting used to it.

"Gary, we're not sure if it's safe for you to stay alone right now." Brigatti broke the silence and paced back and forth in front of him. Gary stared at her for a moment and looked down at the floor. "I actually recommend that an unmarked police car stay outside of McGinty's."

Anger shot through Gary and he literally saw red. "Police? Isn't that what got me in this mess in the first place?" He balled up his fists and gritted his teeth, ignoring the extreme headache that pinged through his temples. "Brigatti, the way I see it, I'm better off fending for myself." He glared up at her and back at Chuck who stood by, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Hobson, we can assure you that we are on your side. We've got a search party looking for Willitz and Hauser, and they are working twenty-four hours a day. We'll get them, we just fear that they might be after you and we won't get them in time." Armstrong stood beside Brigatti and his facial expression sent a chill down Gary's spine.

For the first time, Gary felt trapped in a corner like a lab rat trying to make it to the end of a maze. He swallowed hard, at a loss for words. More emotions took him over and it was all he could do not to lash out at them any worse than he already had. "You assure me that you are on my side." His voice was a whisper as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, Gary, that's right."

Again, Brigatti had called him by his first name. He still hadn't grown used to that and it sent up a flag with him. He had always been Hobson to her, not Gary. "Yeah, you assure me. I seem to remember being assured that the entire Chicago Police Department was there to help. Shame on me for thinking that."

"Gar, just hear them out. Maybe you shouldn't be alone." Chuck sat down beside Gary, his eyes downcast.

"You are here Chuck. I'm not alone." He was grasping at any way to get the cops away from him, even if it meant using his friend as an excuse.

Chuck scoffed. "You're kidding, right? You think I could fend off two guys that are trying to kill you?" Laughing, he kicked his legs under the table. "If it were me, I'd let Brigatti and Armstrong help you."

Gary bit his bottom lip, allowing Chuck's last comment to provoke him. "That's just it, you're not me. You didn't have three cops pull you out of your everyday life and try and kill you." He paused, flashing a glance at the officers that stood in his living room. "I don't need your help. I don't need your suggestions. Please leave."

Armstrong was the first to walk to the door, but Brigatti stood strong in the same spot. Gary stared up at her, unable to look away despite how awkward the whole situation felt. He very seldom let his temper get the best of him, but he was exhausted and so bad did he want things to get back to normal.

"Please, Hobson, just think about it. At least stay somewhere else for awhile. Maybe get a hotel room or something." Brigatti moved towards Armstrong, the look of defeat marked in her posture. For a split second, Gary felt like she was truly on his side, but memories flashed in front of him of the past week and how Chicago's finest had nearly put him six feet under. "If you need anything, here's my card." She pushed it across the surface of the coffee table and turned to leave, pulling the door too behind her.

"Gar, I didn't realize the kind of crap you are in."

Gary pulled himself up off of the couch, walking toward his bed. "I'm gonna get some sleep. How about you leave for a bit? I'll be fine. Go enjoy your vacation."

Chuck nodded. "I'll go out and get us something for dinner. What do you feel like? Italian, Chinese, Mexican?"

Gary shook his head, finding it hard not to smile at his friend. "Surprise me."

* * *

No matter how hard he tried or how tired he was, sleep was extremely hard to come by. Every sound his loft made caused him to jolt awake after dozing off. Small sounds that normally he was used to made his heart race. The simple sound of the refrigerator clicking on and off. The furnace in the closet. The noise of traffic below his high rise window. Wind howling and swirling around the building. Anything and everything that normally a person never seemed to notice.

He stared at the bottle of painkillers on his nightstand that the doctor had prescribed him. He wasn't really hurting too badly, but they definitely would help him get some much-needed rest. No, he had to try a little bit longer before resorting to drugging himself. Closing his eyes tightly, he pulled the covers over his head. A small hint of fresh laundry soap made him relax in the mound of blankets. It smelled so fresh that he began to drift off and sink hard into the mattress.

The heater kicked on, and for a moment he opened his eyes, but dozed right back off again. After a few moments, he was completely comfortable, his mind clear of everything that had been plaguing him.

A shot of cold air blasted around him, instantly waking him from a jumbled a confusing dream. Looking around the room, he had to fully wake up to figure out why everything felt so chilly. Everything was silent, but something didn't feel right. He fought through his groggy demeanor and sat up, leaning against his headboard.

A sharp pain shot through his head as it flew back against the wood behind him, a beefy hand covering his mouth before he could say anything. "You thought we were out of your life, didn't you Hobson?" Hot breath flowed down his neck and he immediately knew that it was one of the two men that were wanted by the entire city of Chicago, or at least that's what they wanted him to believe.

"Tie his hands and feet. We gotta move fast, there's no telling who is casing out this place. They probably have surveillance everywhere."

Gary tried fighting them off but his body was still recovering from the recent trauma it had endured and he stood no chance. Had Chuck made it back yet? Was he okay? He suddenly felt ignorant and stupid for turning down Brigatti's help. Maybe if there had been someone here this could have been prevented, but it was too late now. He grunted and groaned as he kicked his legs. Sweat poured down into his eyes, and within seconds his vision grew black.

* * *

"Gar? Hey buddy, I went ahead and got stuff to make lasagna. I found this awesome recipe and have been cooking it a lot back home. I know how much you like Italian." Chuck juggled the shopping bags in front of him, unable to see where he was going and threw them on the counter, realizing he didn't get a response from him. "Poor guy is probably out cold."

He opened the refrigerator, sifting through what little was inside. A few packages of lunchmeat, a container of something leftover from God knew how long ago, and a twelve pack of Shiner Bock. Chuck smiled to himself. If anything, he could always count on Gary to have some beer in the ice chest.

Twisting the cap off of one, he drank down a few sips before deciding to stick his head in and check on Gary. He walked toward the couch, turning on the TV to a Bears game as he passed by. They were playing the Cowboys, and sadly, were down by three touchdowns with just five minutes left to play. He grimaced and turned the volume down. "Damn Bears. I can't wait for another winning season."

He finally looked in the direction of Gary's bed, but it was empty, the covers pulled down. "Gary?" He walked farther into the room. "Hey buddy, I was going to suggest we watch the rest of the football game but it's a lost cause." Where was he? Maybe the bathroom? He averted his eyes in that direction, the door wide open and Gary was nowhere around.

Chuck's pulse quickened. From what he could tell, there was no sign of a forced entry or struggle. Jogging back to the kitchen, he grabbed the phone and did the only thing he could think to do, and that was to call Brigatti. He ran back to the coffee table, picking up the card she had given Gary earlier when she and Armstrong had stopped by.

He waited, the other end of the line ringing about five times before he heard Brigatti's voice.

"Detective Brigatti."

"Detective, this is Chuck Fishman, Gary's friend. He's gone missing. I think they came for him while I was gone."


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chuck paced back and forth, looking for any clues that would lead to the disappearance of Gary. There was nothing. His covers were pulled back on his bed and that was the only thing that looked remotely out of place. There were no blood spots, nothing knocked over, and from what he could tell, nothing missing. Running his hands through his hair, he glanced at the clock, panic shooting through him.

He hadn't called Marissa yet. He wanted to talk to the detectives before he caused her more emotional harm. A light rap on the door sent him from his daze and his heart raced as he peered through the peep hole, calming when he saw Brigatti and Armstrong on the other side.

"Detective! I'm not sure what happened." Chuck's words were rushed as he let them in. "I uhh…"

Brigatti put her hand up, stopping him in mid sentence as her eyes trailed throughout the loft. Chuck assumed she was looking for what he was. "What happened Chuck? Were you not here?" She put her hands on her hips, biting her lip. She strode to his bed and back into the living area, scanning every detail.

"Gary wanted to get some sleep so I went out and got something for dinner to cook for him." He leaned against a kitchen counter, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach. "I should have never left him alone. He was all hopped up on painkillers and medication. He probably didn't even know what hit him."

Armstrong's large frame towered of Chuck, making him more nervous. "Chuck, what time did you leave?"

Shrugging, he looked down at his watch and back up at the much larger man that intimidated him more than reassuring him. "It was right after you guys left. I was gone an hour, tops."

Brigatti's intense gaze sent a chill down Chuck's spine. "We gotta go talk to Allison. Maybe he has information on their hiding places." Turning to Chuck, she clutched his arm. "Right now I want you to stay here and make sure no one comes back. Answer every phone call that comes through. You see anything suspicious you call us immediately."

Chuck nodded, grimacing at her tight grasp. "Okay." He hated the fact that he had to stay put, but what good was he out on the street anyway? He could search in every alley in Chicago and come up short. At least here he'd be in position in case Gary, by chance, had come back.

His next course of action was to call Marissa, and it was probably the hardest phone call he'd ever have to make.

* * *

Gary woke up to pitch black. Breathing heavily, he tried to turn on his side but his body screamed out in pain. Every bone within him cracked and he groaned loudly, gritting his teeth as he averted his body out of its awkward position.

He wasn't sure what scared him more, the darkness or the complete silence that surrounded him. He was so disoriented that it took him a few moments to realize that he was sitting up in a chair. The vertigo was so thick that nausea settled within him like he had swallowed a pile of rocks. Pursing his lips, he fought the restraints on his wrists and ankles. It was almost like dejavu. This had recently just happened in almost the same manner and he had yet to recover from that confrontation.

He had gotten lucky the first time. Deep down he had doubted another rescue to come through on his side. How could this happen again? He felt so ignorant for turning down a stakeout on McGinty's. Granted, the cops were the reason he was in this mess to begin with, but it was highly unlikely that it was the entire department.

At this point in time he just wished he would either pass out or escape, if his energy allowed him to. An echo enveloped him and caught his full attention. A small beam of light flashed a few feet in front of him and his pulse quickened. There was no conversation, but there were two people and the bright illumination got closer.

"Our boy still there?" Gary instantly recognized the voice. Maybe they'd get it over with now. Hopefully they didn't want to take any more chances with things and just put him out of his misery.

"Yep, he's here." The flashlight stung Gary's eyes and he squinted to shield the light. He was too scared to close his eyes completely. He wasn't sure how long he had been in the dark but the sudden change in contrast made his head pound even worse than it had been before.

"Good, let's get started." Gary swore he could hear the sound of a trigger being cocked back, the metal clanking together was so distinct that there would be no mistaking it.

* * *

"Allison, Hobson went missing again, I thought I'd let you know that." Brigatti paced back and forth in front of him, trying to be calm and collected on the outside when truly, on the inside she was freaking out. Every second wasted in the interrogation room with that piece of trash would only mean harsh consequences for Gary. Going out and searching would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. "If you don't help us and Hobson turns up dead, you will take the fall for this entire situation."

Allison scoffed, his eyes widening as he leaned forward. He looked even worse than their last meeting. Brigatti couldn't help but question how long he'd last in jail with so many inmates recognizing him as a cop. "How can I be blamed? I've been behind bars, there's no way I can get to him and kill him."

Brigatti arched her eyebrow. "We'll find a way. After all, you won't give up your helpers. Just tell us where you guys went with Gary the first time. If you fear that Willitz or Hauser will get you for turning them in, I assure you that we'll get them and there's no way they'll get to you."

Allison hesitated and braced himself on the table. Brigatti pressed further. He had cracked on the surface and she had to take advantage of that. "We'll make a deal with you." As much as she hated that, it was the only way she could save Gary.

Biting his bottom lip, he nodded at her. "There's a warehouse on Michigan Avenue. An old box factory. That's what our plan B was." He paused, his eyes down on the floor. "But Brigatti, I'm not sure if that's where they'll be. There's a chance, though."

She didn't even respond, exiting the room. It was a chance she was willing to take, and it was the only bit of information they had to go on. She walked past Armstrong, grabbing his arm. "Let's get going, I think I might know where Gary is."

"What? Where?"

"Allison just told me about a place downtown." Taking note to his apprehension, she tugged harder on him. "Let's go! Every second we waste is bad news for Hobson."

* * *

Gary felt the cold barrel press up against his brow, the smooth metal scraping over his sweat soaked forehead. He cringed and let out a long moan when a bright light above him turned on. It felt like a railroad spike shot through his skull and he closed his eyes for a split second. Hauser grinned and ran the gun down his forehead and to Gary's lips, pushing on him so hard that the tip of the gun broke through his mouth, clanking against his teeth.

"I should just blow your fucking brains out right now. I'm not one to give second chances." Hauser's eyes were so dark, almost black. Gary tried to kick up at him but they had him restrained so well. "My partner here wants to witness it, and he's not quite ready yet."

Hauser motioned towards Willitz, and Gary glanced at the other man from the corner of his eye. He had his back to him, and Gary tried to see what he was doing. Leaning forward, Hauser pulled the gun away from his face, twirling it on his finger in front of him. Gary swallowed, his curiosity turning back to the younger nuisance.

"You guys are all talk." Gary coughed to clear his throat.

"How so?" Willitz spoke up but still faced away from them.

Gary smirked, feeling braver than he had before. "You stand around and say you are going to get rid of me." He stopped himself, staring down at a hole in the wooden floor next to him. "So go ahead, do it. Why do you keep putting it off?"

Willitz slowly turned around, his gaze intense, like a serial killer on a slasher movie. Gary's heart raced and bile formed in the back of his throat. He had always wondered how he'd handle himself if he were in a situation where someone was trying to kill him, and now it was a reality yet again.

"Hobson, I couldn't let you mess up my drug ring. You witnessed something you should've never seen, and now we are eliminating the problem."

Willitz pointed his index finger at Hauser and Gary heard the cock of the hammer again. Prayers flooded his thoughts and he finally gained up enough courage to squeeze his eyes shut. A gunshot echoed throughout the vacant walls around them. At first he was scared and apprehensive to open his eyes, but his lids fluttered open. Everything was completely silent.

It was odd. He didn't feel any pain. Had he been shot? Was he dead? He was so incoherent that he wasn't sure what end was up.

"Hobson? Hobson!" He recognized the voice right off. It was Brigatti, and for the first time in so long he was happy to see her standing over him, a look of relief as well as worry painted on her brow. "Are you okay?"

He nodded and let out a sigh as he felt the restraints on his legs and wrists come loose. "What happened?"

"We got here just in time." Her gaze grew serious. "Armstrong shot Hauser. He's gone. Willitz is in custody. Almost crazy how well our timing was." She pulled the ropes free and flung him to his side. "I'm going to have to implant a homing device on you so I can constantly know where you are." Smiling, she pulled out her radio. "I need an ambulance at 225 Michigan Avenue."

"I don't need to go to the hospital." Gary tried standing up, but a rush of vertigo sent him back down into the chair beneath him.

"Like hell, Hobson. Seems you need permanent reservations there."

He felt his cheeks heat up. "What are the chances that they will get off on a technicality?"

Brigatti knelt down beside him. "Not good. He'll be put away for a long time. Attempted murder. Two counts of kidnapping. Possessing and attempting to sell a controlled substance. Plenty of witnesses. I'd say you have nothing to worry about, Hobson."

He pursed his lips. "So you are back to calling me Hobson now?" His tone was playful, and he was surprised that he was finding a sense of humor after everything he had recently been through. "I was getting used to Gary."

She tapped his leg and stood back up, motioning toward the medics who made their way to him. "Let's try and get used to the idea of staying out of trouble, eh?"

"I can't make any promises." He grinned up at Brigatti, reassurance settling within him. He felt so dirty to ever have the thought that she could be a bad guy. How could he classify her among scum like Willitz, Hauser, and Allison?

She had come through for him and he'd always be in debt to her. If it wasn't for Armstrong or Brigatti, he'd have been murdered in an abandoned building, left alone for God knew how long. Not every cop in Chicago was dirty, and he was ashamed that it took this much to make him get his trust back in two people that had invested so much time in saving him.

He rested his head back on the gurney, exhaustion hitting him hard. He wasn't sure what the paramedics were doing, and frankly didn't care. His body dozed off into a light sleep, his mind finally calming down and relaxing. Adrenaline had been coursing through his veins the entire time and he hadn't realized how much sleep deprivation he was enduring until now.

Gary wasn't sure how he'd do it, but he would pay Brigatti back. It was the least he could do.


End file.
